


From Then To Here

by LipstickVenom



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Backstory, Blood and Gore, Character Study, Eventual Romance, Getting Together, Headcanon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Slice of Life, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 70,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28191423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LipstickVenom/pseuds/LipstickVenom
Summary: I don't quite know how to best summarise this and I don't think excerpts from the fic are going to do a good job either. So I'm trying for a very blunt approach here and will just outright tell all of you what you’re getting yourself into: This fic is like a weird blend between character study, background story and romance plot – if you only care for the romance bits then beware, as this isn't a pure shipping fic. There is a lot of headcanons and backstory going on, as well as a strange ‘conspiracy’ plot and family drama. If all of that sounds interesting to you then welcome to the fic!
Relationships: Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 124





	1. Brothers

**Author's Note:**

> I mostly leave notes at the bottom so for later chapters if you see something up here please throw a quick look at it since I put my warnings up here. Also, quick reminder to read the tags and/or summary if you haven't done so until now.

In the deepest reaches of the underworld, far down in misty Erebus, hidden from prying eyes and protected by darkness was a special place. Nyx had never before encroached on the space before, mindful to keep her distance – giving her son the privacy he was often seeking out for himself.

Yet today she chose to make an exception to the rule.

Styx’s red water currents were lapping gently at the stone edges of the chamber, the low light of a few candles flickering over the surface, adding a dancing, ruby shine. Occasionally the sound of a gentle ‘splish-splash’ accompanied by the occasional creaking of planks could be heard as the water softly caressed the wood of a boat.

If one listened even closer then they would also be able to hear breathing, slightly too laboured, a little too wheezing – not unlike the last sound that might escape a corpse, the last bit of trapped air finally escaping from a carved open chest.

It was a peaceful, calm moment in the depths of Erebus indeed.

Nyx floated a little closer to the person she had specifically sought out that day “These are your brothers.” she said, holding two children clutched to her chest – they both possessed the ability to float, like nearly all her children did and therefore it would not do to let go, least they floated too far. And yet her grip was also loose enough that her other child could see what and who she was holding – could see their faces, their complexion, their eyes – golden; so much like her own.

Standing opposite of her Charon was quiet for a long while. The only sound to be heard his breathing, while a steady stream of never ending purple smoke escaping the sides of his mouth, wafting around him, glittering a little in the right light – stardust caught in chthonic smoke. 

The billowing clouds were stopped very briefly by the decorated black cloth he had draped over his head and around his shoulders like a shroud – before it found the edges of the cloth and continued to float upwards from there, slowly dissolving into nothingness.

And while Charon calmly took everything in Nyx also seized the opportunity to properly look at him in turn. He hadn't changed at all since they last had seen each other – she herself passing by on an errand, catching Charon floating at his designated spot in Tartarus with an undying patience, smoke billowing around him, waiting silently in case anyone in the house might want to leave – might need a ferry upwards, might request Charon's services to navigate the ever changing, fickle waters of the underworld in a way that no one else could.

Most of the time her son was waiting in vain – and they both knew it. It happened rarely indeed now, somebody requiring a lift, that is – most of Nyx’s children had long left by now, gone; farther away than even Night herself might be able to track them… lost to her.

She had always tried to give her children space, let them grow in whatever direction they might desire for themselves… but at times she had also been dismissive, had left them alone – where her own parent Chaos had been overbearing she feared she sometimes had accidentally made the exactly opposing error; being too distant.

Most of her first children had been temperamental though, had been bitter or melancholic – they might have needed a little more oversight, a gentler touch… But it was done now and most of them would likely not return to her for the longest time – if ever again at all.

Of her older ones now only the most independent had remained – the ones that had always been more solitary by nature, the ones that hadn't minded Nyx’s absence since they hadn't really required her presence to begin with.

Only four were still around. 

Her three daughters who were always weaving, twisting and knotting their threads, busy making a tapestry as wondrous as it could be terrifying. And her son, ever faithful and devoted to the house, inclining his head in greeting whenever she passes him by, floating at his spot as if tethered, often looking like nothing but a set fixture, a stature somebody had put there – ever waiting – his gaze staring into nothingness.

His one glowing ‘eye’ was currently fixed on his new siblings, like a shining vortex – his other eye socket empty. The glow switches sometimes, she knew, lingering left or right, depending on where Charon needed it. His hair, always shaded and mostly hidden underneath his draped cowl, was bright white, like stars in the night sky, while his face by contrast was utterly black, like a void in space.

Looking at him now, with her two youngest sons resting in her arms for easy comparison, it was hard to deny that he was the odd one out – born not from but herself, but fathered by Erebus too. 

And even then, of the few children that were indeed sired by Erebus, like Hemera – who shines bright as only Day can, unlike both her parents – or her brother Aether – the very heaven of this world, the purest air – Charon was the one that took most after his father. With a face like tar, and hair like unblemished snow in sunlight – looking as if nothing had been created yet, not even colour. His one glowing eye like a deep well, beckoning like a will-o'-wisp anyone foolish enough to follow.

He undeniably shared the hard edges many of his siblings and half-siblings had – when angered he had a poise to his body like Nemesis, his mind sharp like Apate, and his wrath vicious like Moros. He could be stubborn, not moving from his conviction, which could be both a blessing and a curse at times. 

Greed and possessiveness seemed to come easy to him – it was plain to see in the way his eye got caught on the shine of gemstones in the dark. He was also burdened by the arrogance and pride that most other gods exhibit, yet, fortunately, if one met him with reason he was often still willing to listen and learn unlike so many others of their kind.

Finally Charon let go of his oar – it floated dutifully at his side, waiting to be grasped once more – he moved his right hand, stretched one of his long, bony fingers out – his long black robes flowing around his movements making him look like a black wraith.

And then, with infinite gentleness, he crooked the finger under Hypnos’ chin, carefully and slowly turning his face, looking at him. His thumb curled up, stroking over a chubby cheek in a warm caress. He let out a low groan and Nyx, with a barely there smile on her lips, answered his question without hesitation.

“This is Hypnos, he will reign over the sleep of mortals.” she explained. A moments passed in stillness, even the ever present stream of smoke from Charon's mouth seemed to stutter out for a second.

Her older son lifted his head slightly, taking his gaze off of Hypnos who, at least for the moment, had been roused from his seemingly perpetual doze and was now grabbing at Charon's fingers. For a second Charon's attention remained fixed on her before it dropped down again to Hypnos.

Charon let out a series of groans and Nyx nods her assert “Yes, a lot has changed up above.” 

For a god time often held no deeper meaning, the flow of it was often only marked by significant changes – and the creation of mortal beings, appearing so quickly and expiring form old age again seemingly even quicker, certainly was one such occasion.

It was also precisely the reason why Nyx had brought her two youngest sons to Charon. Because, for all the harsh and brutal traits he shared with his other siblings and despite his hard edges, Nyx knew that Charon also possessed the gentle touch and warm patience of Philotes.

She could see it plainly in the way he oh so carefully ruffled through Hypnos’ curly hair. And in the way he reached over afterwards, curling his finger under Thanatos’ chin to get a better look at him too, his thumb stroking over a cheek that was much more gaunt than Hypnos’, even in this young age.

A soft groan and again Nyx answered “This is Thanatos. He will bring death.”

And this new, young god was precisely the reason why Nyx had come. She could not afford for Death himself to grow up like so many of his siblings had, like Moros or Eris or Nemesis, all those centuries and centuries ago when she herself had still been so very bitter about her parent Chaos and their suffocating expectations.

She did not believe that she could rest easy ever again if she knew that Thanatos would one day grow into an uncaring and hard man, a vengeful Death, striking down everything that scorned him like so many other gods tended to do.

When Charon, nearly hesitantly – a movement which seemed somewhat strange on his towering form – stretched out his arms questioningly Nyx didn't hesitate and gentle deposited Thanatos in his hold, adjusting her son’s unsure arms so he could hold the newborn better. She didn't want to hand over Hypnos right away, since Sleep tended to be a little fussy when separated from her – something that his brother Death seemingly didn't have a problem with.

Charon's face was not expressive, it was always locked in a blank look, it could not move or express and yet Nyx could still easily spot the wonder in the way he tipped his head to the side, in how thin his trail of smoke had become, in how he let young Thanatos grab at his fingers and robes.

Charon, for all his faults, was also devoted and steady, calm and gentle and Nyx hoped that, thanks to her own personal growth – and an experience that could only come from hindsight – and Charon's steadfast and soft presence both Sleep as well as Death would turn out sweeter and warmer than so many of her other children had.

“A lot will change around here from now on, my child.” she said and Charon only nodded, his one eye was still fixed on young Thanatos in his arms “I decided that this realm will become a final resting place for all mortals who will perish.” she continued undeterred, sure in the knowledge that Charon was following her every word, as he always was “Once Thanatos has grown into his own he will reap their souls and lead them to the door of this realm and from there you will ferry them to their final destination.”

At that last part Charon did look up – his only duty so far had been to ferry the other denizens of the house around; at least those who could not leave at the blink of an eye like Nyx herself.

Nyx knew that over the years and years, as more and more of her children had left and not returned, Charon had been forced to become stationary, waiting for something that wouldn't happen any more. Floating by his boat, staring into space, resentful of his stillness and yet, still, always, _**always**_ dutiful and devoted.

And now Nyx could see his gratefulness at her words, his eagerness to finally move again, rowing up and down the waters of the underworld – having a real duty once again.

“You are the only one able to navigate the ever changing flow of the rivers here. Without you, undoubtedly, the souls of the mortals would become lost. I expect you to fulfil this new duty to the best of your abilities.” she ended and Charon, ever faithful, inclined his head – maybe even with a little more fervour than the usually exhibited.


	2. Building Something New

As more and more of his siblings had left and had told him not to wait up for their return Charon had felt a strange kind of creeping dread. The dread had never stemmed from his siblings leaving – in fact, Charon was glad that he seemingly didn't have to see some of them for the next few centuries at least – but because he knew what an empty house meant.

He was the ferryman of the underworld, the Stygian Boatman – he was the only one able to make sense of the ever changing flow of the rivers and his duty had always been to ship the part of his family that couldn't teleport around; which had been most of them.

But as more and more of his siblings left – until finally only his three sisters; who never truly left their chamber, and his mother; who could teleport remained – his job had become obsolete.

He had been left to wait – floating nearly gormless beside his ferry, staring unseeing in the distance, purple chthonic smoke endlessly billowing from his mouth. Eternity had, for the first time, seemed unbearably long. His future reduced to floating around stationary, awaiting something that he knew would not happen. With only Styx as his ever faithful companion.

And so Charon genuinely welcomed the birth of both humankind as well as his two new brothers along side them – Hypnos, Sleep; and Thanatos, Death – since it would soon give him a new duty. Soon he would ferry shades around, finally rowing over his rivers again, no longer forced to remain stationary and still.

Charon assumed that it only made sense that this kind of responsibility would fall to mother Nyx’s realm, since the other gods likely didn't want any shades on their mountain – even if they would theoretically have enough space up there; but both mother Nyx as well as he knew how the other gods were. And if the shades simply remain where they died the earth would soon become overcrowded with the dead. It was obvious that if they didn't claim the mortal shades, then no one would.

So with mother Nyx set on the idea of turning her realm into a final resting place for mortal souls Charon had begun to return to the house to help his mother with her vision – since his sisters were too busy weaving to truly offer aid.

And while he helped his mother with the changes around the realm he was – surprisingly – also helping her raise his two younger brothers. He, truthfully, hadn't expected that he would interact much with his brothers at all, but mother Nyx seemed determined to include Charon in the process of raising them. And she would often leave both of them in his care when she needed to leave – trusting that he would look after them.

Charon did as he was told and he really didn't mind caring for the two new-born gods – carrying them tucked against his chest and partially wrapped in the long cloth of his cowl to keep them warm and cosy, calming them when they were upset, playing with them… But Charon would also be lying if he said he wasn't somewhat confused by all of it. 

He had never spent much time with the rest of his family – even as a young god, barely born, he had mostly kept to himself, the rivers of the underworld the only company he truly needed. Their presence was calming – soothing and reassuring – their soft lapping sounds like a gorgeous melody.

His siblings and half-siblings had been the exact opposite – with maybe the small exception of Aether, Hemera and Philotes. Charon had never liked the noisiness of all the others, their rowdiness or viciousness. It wasn't that he had been intimidated by them like Aether had sometimes been, no, Charon had always been able to hold his own against them – rearing up and showing his own wrath, the rivers roaring and shaking, joining him in his anger.

… But if given the choice Charon had much preferred not to be dragged into their problems – to just stay far away from all of them. He had never held much affection for them. And the only thing he had ever missed about their proximity had been the pleasure of ferrying them to and fro – which wasn't important anymore now that he would soon ship shades around.

He was sure mother Nyx, shrewd as she was, knew his true thoughts on that matter, which made it doubly surprising that she seemingly had decided that he should be included in the rearing of his new brothers.

Truthfully speaking, Charon had assumed that he would greatly dislike it – remembering all his siblings and what it was like to grow up along-side them… but he found that he truly did not mind. In fact, both his younger brothers were slowly growing onto him and he thought he might genuinely come to enjoy the role of big brother.

Hypnos was a bit of a fussy and clingy child, at least when he was actually awake for once – he liked to be held close and tended to mewl and cry whenever he was placed down. Thanatos, in a surprising turn, was nearly the exact opposite – the child was so quiet, you could nearly forget he was there most of the time – he didn't fuss when he was put down or reached between mother Nyx and Charon himself and he only ever started to cry when something was seriously bothering him.

All in all they were easy to look after – especially when compared to some of Charon's siblings – with Hypnos being generally happy as long as he was cradled in someone's hold and Thanatos often just observing everything silently.

Still, that didn't mean that both of them couldn't be trouble too.

Hypnos had a tendency to just fall asleep whenever, which would not be so bad if he hadn't inherited the ability to float like most of mother Nyx’s children. Seeing as he was still very young he did not have full control over the ability just yet and so he stopped floating whenever he fell asleep – which sometimes forced Charon to make a near nose-dive to catch him before he dropped.

Thanatos, as Charon had found out early on, hadn't just inherited the floating but also mother Nyx’s gift of teleportation – and just like his twin he didn't yet have full control over his powers. Which had, more than once, forced either mother Nyx to look for him on the mortal plains or Charon to get on his ferry and let the rivers guide him to whenever young Thanatos had zapped off to in the underworld.

All in all Charon found his stay at the house surprisingly enjoyable – splitting his attention between looking after his brothers and helping mother Nyx in most her endeavours, since he knew that his intimate knowledge of the underworld rivers was much needed in that regard.

And yet, despite all of that, he was still eager to leave again. He knew that his place wasn't here but by the water, the different rivers of the underworld calling to him – like spouses who dearly missed their husband. They were asking for his return – their voices in the back of his mind, their pull in his chest. He knew they missed his presence and he missed theirs too.

But he had an important duty right now that he needed to fulfil before he could return to his rightful place again. Soon – he found himself thinking that often – he would return soon. Just a little longer before he would be able to join his rivers again.

It was one calm evening – and Charon knew it was evening by the way the light of Ixion gleamed on the soft, red waves of the river Styx – that mother Nyx and he were floating around a table piling with scrolls.

Mother Nyx was a creator, much like her parent, shaping the underworld after her image and desires. She was cunning and shrewd and had already laid out several plans for the new constructions that would need to be build – the different floors and chambers.

She was showing all of it to Charon now, expecting his help “The rivers change their course often and with their own thoughts and preferences in mind. If I am to build rooms to house the mortal souls around them I will need your aid to do so properly.” she said and Charon nodded, letting out an affirmative and agreeable groan. If she needed them then he would lend his godly powers to his mother for this project.

It had been a brilliant idea of hers, truly. If the rooms moved with the will of the water he was sure escape would be near impossible, in fact, most shades – except for maybe the most persistent and foolhardy ones – would never even think of attempting an escape. And yet it would still allow Charon to navigate the entire place with ease, know where every room and every hidden space was – since the rivers would be able to simply guide him to his destinations, fast and surely.

Nyx nodded once towards him, the edges of her mouth deepening slightly in a barely there smile “Thank you, my child.”

Charon nodded again, bowing a little deeper this time around.

He had noticed very quickly that mother Nyx had grown more… mellow – for lack of better words – since he had last truly spoken to her. All those years and years and years ago, when last they had truly been together as a sort of patchy, rough family she had seemed more conflicted, less gentle and patience. More caught up in her own troubles and therefore more distant too.

She seemingly had made peace with whatever had bothered her back then and Charon could honestly say that he was happy for her.

Mother Nyx had never been the most openly affectionate, but her touch had never been harsh and her words, while often brutally truthful and to the point, had never been meant to hurt – truthfully, Charon himself had always appreciated how non-invasive her presence had been as well as her honesty and directness, even if he knew some of his siblings hadn't. 

He had always known where he stood with her. She had been the best mother to him that she could have been and Charon wouldn't have wanted any other mother for himself but her. So it truly gladdened him to see her at peace now and filled with so much purpose and determination.

“Come then, my child. Let us begin.” she said, floating off – young Thanatos cradled firmly to her chest, probably in a vain attempt to maybe keep him from teleporting away again.

Charon gave an affirmative groan, his feet touching the ground before he walked after her – Hypnos sleeping soundly in his own hold. It was a little oddity of his, he knew. Most of his siblings never touched the ground if they could help it and even he himself tended to start to float if he was stationary too long – his feet just leaving the ground without his conscious thought.

But he was used to the solid wood of his ferry under his feet, knew every creak of every plank when he walked over it – he craved the connection, his feet on the wood and the wood on the water. And it was the same now too, his feet on the solid stone of the house and the water of Styx softly lapping at the edges all around them – sloshing gently, like a nudge, asking again when he would finally return.

Soon, he thought as he followed after mother Nyx, Hypnos' small fingers holding onto his black cowl in his sleep. Soon, he thought again and the disquiet plish-plash at the edges of his mind subsided. Momentarily calmed and comforted – like a wife reading a letter from her travelling husband that promised her as speedy a return as was possible.


	3. Titans

Time moved on as it was wont to do, years coming and going – more and more chambers were finished, the underworld now separated in different floors by the flow of the rivers. Darkest Erebus holding everything up, followed by Tartarus for the worst that mortals had to offer, Asphodel for the ones who could actually behave – which was surprisingly fewer than one might expect – and then Elysium for the heroes and kings.

It had taken quite some time – at least in mortal years – and during the years of construction both Hypnos and Thanatos had come into their own as gods as well, realizing their powers and stepping into their respective roles as Sleep and Death.

So after Charon's brothers had been old enough and once everything had been properly set up and they had made sure that – when more rooms would inevitable be added later down the line – those new rooms could simply be connected to older ones and would then move along with the flow of the rivers even without Charon's help to build them the ferryman had returned to his rivers and boat.

And he was busy now, busier than he had been in aeons, rowing the shades down into the underworld – into their after life. It spawned a little trend too – the mortals saw the golden colour of Death’s eyes, the glittering stardust caught in Charon's chthonic smoke, the golden trim of his robes – and the connected dots that hadn't really been there.

Gold, they seemingly thought. It makes sense, they seemingly thought. After all in the mortal realm there were boat fares to be paid if you wanted a ship to take you somewhere, and gods, they do like offerings do they not? They get angry when you scorn or ignore them, don't they?

And so Charon soon got a first coin placed in his hand – and he would be a liar if he said he did not like it. He had always liked the spark of gems when the light struck them just right, the glint of gold – like his mothers eyes – the reflection of silver like soft starlight. Gorgeous trinkets and baubles. The finest cloth – humans trying to imitate the sublime weave his sisters made.

And all the other gods got their offerings, did they not? They got food – fruit and vegetables and meat – precious metals and even blood – freshly killed animals. They had temples adorned with gold and marble.

So why shouldn't Charon take one coin for himself? At the very least he was actually providing a decent service for the offering – unlike so many of the gods who just took and took and yet never gave anything back at all. 

It wasn't too much to ask for, just one coin from each – the same price for everyone, no matter if royalty or urchin. And so it came to be that dying was free, yet to actually set a foot on the ferry that took the souls down into the underworld a fee needed to be paid first.

Not that Charon was too harsh in his enforcement of the new rule. Mortals died, that was the one sure thing about them. And they could die quickly too, out in the open, without a proper burial. Or from starvation, too poor to buy food and certainly too poor to buy a ferry.

And so Charon simply waved those ones away, let them wander for a century before he rowed them down anyway. It wasn't too unreasonable he thought, seeing as eternity awaited these shades afterwards. Really, what were a hundred years in the face of infinity? So honestly, the ‘punishment’ for failing to pay was pretty mild – it could likely be compared to a gentle slap on the wrist.

“Brother.”

The greeting pulled Charon's mind away from its musings. He tipped his head back slightly, looking up from underneath his wide-brimmed hat – he had switched from his old cowl to the hat a while ago. It had been specially made for him – he had commissioned it from an exceptionally skilled dead seamstress. It still hid his glaring white hair just like the cowl had – shadowing it with the wide brim – but it was also easier to deal with than a slipping or unravelling piece of cloth, especially since Charon was up and about a whole lot more now. 

His glowing purple eye finally settled on his younger brother – well, technically half-brother, but Charon found he felt more connected to him than he had ever felt to either Aether or Hemera.

Thanatos was floating in front of him, one leg slightly bend, the other dangling mostly straight and relaxed. He was floating so high Charon had to crane his neck slightly – Thanatos had grown tall, certainly taller than Hypnos, yet Charon wasn't sure if his younger brother was taller than he too or if it just often appeared that way because, while Thanatos preferred to float, Charon himself often stayed grounded, which was a difference of quite a few inches in and of itself.

Still, while some other god may be petty enough to be bothered by such trivial things as height Charon wasn't. It did not matter if his younger brother was actually taller than he or just appeared taller thanks to his floating.

“ _Yes?_ ” he inquired, even if it only came out as a low, wordless groan.

“I brought the newest souls to be ferried off.” Thanatos answered his question easily, indicating behind himself where a bunch of shades were milling around, waiting to be taken away. Beside mother Nyx, father Erebus – who didn't speak in ‘clear words’ either – and Hypnos Thanatos was one of the few in his family who had actually bothered to learn to understand him.

In the beginning it might have been born out of sheer necessity, simply because Charon had partially raised his two younger brothers, and back then understanding each other had been vital – but even now, after all those years, both Hypnos as well as Thanatos still communicated with him as an equal, despite the fact that Charon – while able to talk in his own way – wasn't able to form the kind of words and noises all his other family members used to communicate.

Charon inclined his head, letting out a string of groans and noises, informing his younger brother that he would dutifully take the shades to their final destination as always.

“Good.” Thanatos nodded and some of his waist long hair spilled over his left shoulder at the movement and – in the same way that Charon had done for countless years now – he easily reached up his right hand to tuck the wayward strand back where it belonged.

Thanatos, for a second, pulled a face as if he had just bitten into a lemon – looking every bit the petulant, young god that he still was – and Charon couldn't help but let out an amused sound, puffs of purple, slightly glittering smoke rising from the sides of his mouth, making it obvious that he was chuckling.

Thanatos tried so hard to appear older than he actually was. He was stoic, always wearing a serious expression on his gaunt face, always hard-working and dutiful – faithful to the house, bowing unquestioningly to mother Nyx’s will. 

… But, hidden under all of that, he was often shy too, his voice low and gentle, more like a fleeting suggestion than anything else. His touch questioning and searching, his gaze often looking for approval. 

Charon sometimes felt that his brother was only doing or saying some things because he believed it was expected of him and not because he truly believed them himself. He was still young, and only just really coming into his own – and that was obvious to someone like Charon; a god who had been around for so many, many years longer.

Thanatos’ purpose was a heavy one too – being Death Incarnate was so often a lonely, thankless existence. Something of which both mother Nyx as well as Charon were aware of – and so, even though it was obvious that Thanatos did not like to be mothered or coddled Charon found that he often could not help himself but do exactly that.

He let his still raised hand rest on Thanatos head for a moment – a gentle pat, meant to convey that Thanatos wasn't alone. He let it sink quickly again after that though, knowing full well that his younger brother would only allow so much before he would become flustered or embarrassed and simply vanish without another word.

Thanatos cleared his throat “Well-” he said “I still have more work to do.” he finished and then, barely a blink of an eye later he vanished in a bright green pop, leaving Charon alone with the souls he had collected so far.

Another few puffs of glittering, deep purple smoke rose, betraying Charon's amusement as he stretched out his right hand – waiting for the shades to pay their due.

As far as permanent, life altering changes went Charon found that he truly couldn't complain. He had two brothers he adored and who adored him back, a mother that was more at peace with herself than she had been in centuries – his family felt more like a unit than it ever had before, all of them working towards the same goal – and beside that he was finally rowing over the waters of the underworld rivers again, collecting coin and other trinkets as he went. 

All of it truly felt like a blessing after floating around, near gormless, for so many years – waiting futilely for someone to step out of a dead house. Now the house felt lively despite the fact that it mostly hosted the dead, filled with a kind of purpose that had never been there before.

Everything was working out fine…

Which also was why Charon felt less than thrilled when, one day, he was sent up only to see the blood-smeared second branch of the family waiting for his ferry.

The Olympians – related to his grandparent Chaos and mother Nyx and he himself so distantly that it wasn't even worth mentioning anymore at this point – they had come to banish the hacked up parts of their Titan parents to the most distant parts of Tartarus, so that they might never see the light that his sister Day brought again.

They clambered into his ferry without any decorum or respect, talking loudly, cheering and getting blood on the wooden benches of the boat. If Charon had been able to curl his mouth in distaste he would have done so, instead he simply let out a displeased series of groans – it might have been words, expressing his displeasure right to their faces in a downright brazen act of disregard; but it wasn't like any of them could actually understand him, or would ever bother to try.

They were too proud for that, reeling from victory, slathered in the blood of their parents, howling and cheering and jeering the entire time that Charon was more or less forced to accompany them to their destinations – just so they wouldn't get lost around the ever shifting chambers of the underworld.

To them he was probably nothing more than a mute servant – not worth the attention, barely a step above the shades he ferried. They did not stop to consider that he was a god too, that it was only by his grace that they actually reached their goal, that it was only out of his good-will that the waters around them did not rear up – the rivers of the underworld not bound to Poseidon’s rule but devoted to Charon in the same way Charon was devoted to them.

His glowing vortex of an eye lingered on them the entire time that they were down in his mothers realm. And what Charon saw, all of it, was a truly despicable display.

Charon felt a crawling, uneasy sort of disgust as he – fleetingly, for he couldn't stand to think on it longer – imagined laying a hand on his mother in rage. As if in response to his shuddering revulsion the blood red water of Styx around him shuddered too, lapping at his boat, splashing against the edges of the stone of Tartarus, the ever reaching hands of the water stretching out, trying to touch his feet, the edges of his robes – like a wife trying to calm her distressed husband.

Charon let out a long stream of purple smoke, like a calming breath before he took a few steps towards the edge, closer to the water. He felt as it wetted the hem of his long robes, splashing soothingly against his feet and ankles, currents floating around him, feeling like grasping fingers.

It’s fine now, he thought, letting out a groan that conveyed the same sentiment and Styx accepted his words, calming again, receding back into her boundaries.

Charon turned his head from the water back to where the bunch of unruly Olympians was currently strewing the pieces of their dismembered parents around, hiding and tucking and locking up with a sort of cold calculation.

He tightened his hold on his oar, in case the near blood-drunk mob in front of him got any untoward ideas. Because, no matter how little they might think of him, he was still the brother of Doom, of Retribution, of Death and even the Fates themselves, son of Night and Darkness, and he certainly wouldn't let those gods that currently behaved more like savage animals than anything else wreak havoc on his mothers realm unchecked.

This wasn't their place and their words and will meant nothing here – and if he had to, he would remind them of that fact himself – no matter if he was outnumbered and out-armed.

Suddenly, one of them, Lord Hades, brother of Zeus and Poseidon, if Charon remembered correctly, turned around – as if he had heard Charon's resentful string of thoughts. Red eyes – like rubies; like the waters of Styx – surrounded by a black sclera rose to meet Charon's one angrily glowing will-o'-wisp of an eye.

And for one absurd moment Charon felt as if his disgust at the display in front of him was at least partially shared.

Lord Hades expression was solemn – the complete opposite of the god around him – and it seemed to wordlessly convey: ‘Yes, what you see right now is vicious, jeering victory and yet, what we did had to be done. There was no other way.’

Charon was still for a second before he inclined his head, showing that, even if he didn't understand, he was at the very least willing to offer the benefit of the doubt and respect their actions. Lord Hades inclined his head back – already showing Charon more respect than all his other brethren combined had – before he turned around again, to go back to helping his brothers and sisters.

And Charon in turn remained where he was, his feet unconsciously leaving the ground – now floating in the air – as he dutifully waiting for his chance to row them all back up the rivers of the underworld again.

The moment couldn't come quickly enough, he thought, and he sincerely hoped that after this he would never have to see an Olympian god again – since they seemingly all behaved like wild animals and most, if not all of them, seemed to regard him and his kin as beneath them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also guess it’s time to mention that Charon kinda sometimes talks, so if you find that annoying for some reason, consider yourself warned – it doesn't happen a lot since I mostly used indirect speech, or thoughts etc. but it _**does**_ happen from time to time, so yeah.
> 
> Also thanks for reading this far <3 and if you liked the story so far then maybe consider leaving a comment if you feel like it.


	4. Another Queen

Charon still remembered the day the Olympians had bumbled into his mothers realm – set on scattering their parents remains to the four most distant corners of Tartarus. He didn't quite know how many days or years it had been since then – as time for a god tended to get a little fuzzy sometimes – but he still clearly remembered how glad he had been to row them back upwards again after they had finally be done with their gruesome work.

He had even told them ‘Good riddance’ right to their faces as they had stepped off of his ferry and back onto the land of the upper world again. Of course they hadn't understood him and most had simply ignored him while a few had thrown borderline disgusted looks at him – like annoyed that he had had the audacity to make noises in their presence, irritated about the fact that he had reminded them of his existence with his groans.

They had talked and boasted for a few more moments before they had finally turned to leave. And as Charon had watched them walk away he had felt the overwhelming urge to be able to actually roll his eye.

He still remembered that – as soon as the other gods had been out of eye-sight – he had shaken his head to himself in revolted bemusement before he had stepped back onto his ferry to row back home.

Back then he had thought to himself that he could live happily for the rest of eternity if he never had to see another Olympian god ever again.

…

“This is Lord Hades.” mother Nyx introduced the hulking god beside her – he was taller, even standing flat on the ground, than floating Thanatos who was usually looming over everyone else; either accidental or on purpose.

Charon tipped his head into his neck slightly, looking up and past the wide brim of his by now obol-adorned hat. His glowing will-o'-wisp of an eye fixed on the god in front of him. He let out a groan that wasn't words, but instead nothing more than a noise of long-suffering annoyance – along it followed a thick stream of purple smoke that shimmered slightly whenever it caught the low light of the house. Why did he get the feeling that his sister Fates were currently having a giggle at his expense?

At his very obviously displeased reaction Hypnos, who was floating at his left, had to suppress a laugh, yet his amusement was still visible in the way the sides of his mouth twitched upwards every so often. Thanatos, who was floating beside Hypnos, did not crack a smile or even let out a good-natured huff of air; instead he wore a worried, somewhat unsure expression – doubtful of this sudden change – his gaunt face drawn.

Mother Nyx shot Charon a telling look and he inclined his head slightly, letting out a more amenable groan – showing that, while he was certainly _**not**_ pleased with the current happenstances, he wouldn't challenge them either. His mothers expression softened at his easy concession, seemingly relieved that he would not oppose any of this.

“And this is his wife, Lady Persephone.” mother Nyx continued her introduction and by all the rivers of the underworld, it was like looking at his mother Night and his sister Day side by side. 

Lady Persephone wore an easy, gentle smile, seemingly nearly shining beside her surly, perpetually irritated looking husband. She looked downright absurdly tiny beside Lord Hades and Charon thought that she might even be a good bit shorter than Hypnos, who was already a few inches smaller than both his twin as well as Charon himself.

“You already met my three daughters, the Fates. Now, these are the three of my sons who still remain here to serve dutifully.” mother Nyx went on, floating over to them. She waved a hand towards Thanatos first, floating leftmost “My son Thanatos, Death Incarnate. He reaps the souls of mortals and brings their shades to the doors of this realm.” a slight adjustment of her hand position followed as she pointed out Hypnos “And this is his twin, Hypnos, Sleep Incarnate, who sees to the mortals need for rest.”

Finally her hand, with her gently curled fingers, waved to Charon “And the oldest of my still remaining sons, Charon. He presides over the rivers of this realm, rowing the departed to their final resting place.”

Lord Hades nodded towards them, paying due respect – which, truthfully, was already more than Charon had expected from his ilk. Sure, Lord Hades might have seemed somewhat respectable and well-behaved when he had been here before – especially when compared to his rowdy, rude bunch of siblings. But back then he had been nothing more than a foreigner in a strange land, somebody who didn't belong – while now he had been crowned regent over the realm of the dead, no matter what mother Nyx or any of her children had to say to that idea.

The Olympians probably thought, since they were powerful enough to kill their Titan parents, they were also powerful enough to simply install a leader in a realm that, by all regards, _**already had**_ a leader – namely mother Nyx herself. They just carved the world up in little fiefdoms however they pleased, disregarding anyone else's input – too blinded by their own arrogance and pride.

What an absolute farce, Charon thought as thick plumes of smoke billowed from the side of his mouth. This was the realm of Night, of Sleep and Death, the three Fates and of Charon himself – the Stygian Boatman. And all of them where incredibly powerful in their own rights. Mother Nyx, the Fates and Charon himself had, in fact, been around longer than most of the Olympians had.

And yet they still thought they could take a Queendom that already had a regent. That it didn't matter what any of the chthonic gods that lived in the underworld thought of this idea. That they could simply fell a decision without consulting or even asking them – they thought non of their opinions mattered, that it wasn't worth anything, that they were too far beneath them.

Arrogant and self-serving as they were they likely thought that their chthonic colleagues should be thankful that they finally got a ‘real ruler’.

Another thick curtain of smoke rose upwards. Oh the absolute gall, Charon thought angrily. But at the very least Lord Hades seemed just as thrilled to be here as Charon was to host him – which was to say: not at all. It was a bitter and cold sort of comfort.

Lord Hades’ eyes, which Charon was never sure if he should compare to rubies or the blood red waters of Styx, trailed over all three of them, from Thanatos, to Hypnos and finally stopping at Charon himself.

Charon swallowed his rising irritation at the whole situation and simply inclined his head in both a greeting as well as a show of respect. If mother Nyx did not oppose this decision, then he himself wouldn't either… At least not right now. He was, as always, willing to at the very least give the benefit of the doubt.

He would accept Lord Hades reign as long as the newly crowned ‘Master of the Dead’ was working for the betterment of the house. As long as he helped, intend on aiding all their work to build up the realm to the best of their abilities, Charon would bow his head and do his bidding without complaining.

… Should it turn out, though, that the new ‘King’ was indeed decadent, incompetent or simply didn't care for his duties here, well, then Charon wouldn't hesitate to make his displeasure known.

“It’s so nice to meet a few new faces.” the softly spoken words, carrying with them a genuine trace of excitement, were what ripped Charon from his musing – and he watched in utter astonishment as Lady Persephone stepped away from her husbands side and instead made her way towards Thanatos without hesitation.

Death was usually the one approaching, he was never the one _**being approached**_ unless it was his direct family – mother Nyx, Hypnos and Charon – who did so. Mortals feared him and even other gods and immortals were leery of his presence. But here was Lady Persephone, boldly stepping towards him as if he was just any other man.

She smilingly reached out her hand and gripped poor, confused Thanatos’ limply hanging right one in it – which made Death startle somewhat fierce. She shook his hand in greeting “It’s good to meet you Lord Death.”

Thanatos was obviously floundering, grappling for words that seemingly were very intend on escaping his grasp “I…” he stuttered for a moment, only used to talking to his mother and his brothers “Please just address me as Thanatos, my Lady.” he finally managed to answer, bowing his head slightly.

“You will address her as your Queen and nothing less!” Lord Hades’ booming voice could suddenly be heard and it easily drowned out whatever else soft-spoken Thanatos might have tried to say.

It had the intended effect and Thanatos hastily corrected himself “My Queen.” he rectified immediately, bowing his head a bit deeper still, for good measure.

Charon on his part let out a hissing, angry sound, a plume of vicious, thick smoke escaping his mouth as his burning will-o'-wisp of an eye fixed on Lord Hades. Mother Nyx’s hand curled around his shoulder – a comfort, a reassurance and a warning all in one – but he ignored it. 

In the distance, only audible if you actually listened for it, the waters of Styx ceased their soothing lapping and instead started to slap wildly at the stone of Tartarus, frothing red, like the maws of a predator who had just scored a fresh, bloody kill. A wrathful wife, sharing her husbands indignation.

Both Thanatos as well as Hypnos had grown up away from the presence of their many, many siblings – away from Distresses cursing and wailing, and Deceit’s trickery, Doom’s fierce wrath and Retribution’s harsh words and harsher touches.

They were both calm and soft and gentle in a way Charon only remembered Aether, Hemera and Philotes ever being.

But Charon? Oh, Charon had indeed grown up with all his many, many siblings and half-sibling and he had learned more than enough from them. And he certainly wouldn't stand idly around while Lord Hades walked all over his soft-mannered brothers however he pleased – kicking down at the gods Charon himself had helped to raise. Lord Hades was talking to Death and Sleep, and both of them were powerful and more than deserving of respect!

And if Charon had to force the other god to see that, then…

His flaring, vicious anger – so reminiscent of Nemesis’ wrath – stalled for a second as he watched how Lady Persephone suddenly whipped around, her fists shoved into her hips, her emerald eyes sparking as they fixed on Lord Hades.

“I can decide however I want to be addressed myself.” she said, her voice not louder than before, yet it suddenly sounded sharp and cutting – a far cry from the gentle greeting she had offered Thanatos “Or do you think I have no voice? No own opinion that is worth hearing? That you need to make my decisions for me?” she continued, her chin raised in clear challenge. 

There was so much bitterness in her tone that it was clear to Charon that there had to be a story – an origin to all that righteous fury that made her emerald eyes gleam like a luscious forest that had just caught on fire.

And Charon watched in wonder as Lord Hades downright sputtered, stumbling over his words – finally, nearly mumbling out, an answering “No.” and as he bowed his head to his tiny wife in concession the last shreds of Charon's anger petered out – and in the distance Styx lay once again calm, gently lapping at the edges of Tartarus. 

He felt mother Nyx rub a thumb over his shoulder in a soothing manner, just once, before she drew her hand away – sure, again, that her oldest son wouldn't lash out any time soon.

Lady Persephone curled her lips in distaste for a moment, her upturned nose wrinkling before she shook her head and her expression smoothed out again “It’s good to know we are on the same page then.” she said – a final barb – before she turned back around to Thanatos again – who looked both supremely uncomfortable and extremely awkward.

“Please don't mind him. You can address me however you like.” she smiled nearly reassuringly – not that it would be any help, Charon knew. The damage had already been done and Thanatos would never dare address her as anything else but ‘Queen’ again.

“I would address you as Queen then, if it is no trouble.” Thanatos said, though it sounded more like a question. And seeing how Lady Persephone’s lips twitched for a second at his response it seemingly, indeed, was trouble – but she refrained from putting Thanatos in even more of an awkward spot by demanding a different address that conflicted directly with her husbands obvious wishes.

In the end she simply turned a little, stretching her hand out to Hypnos “Sleep, right? Is it okay if I address you by your name just like your brother?”

“Sure thing.” Hypnos said easily, chipper as always – seemingly completely unbothered by all the drama that had just unfolded in front of him. He waved his hand in the air once – as if waving Lady Persephone’s question away – before he lowered it a little so he could shake her offered hand with his usual enthusiasm. 

His whole relaxed and happy demeanour seemingly delighted Lady Persephone and she returned his broad smile with one of her own – even showing a part of the upper row of her teeth.

Finally Lady Persephone stopped in front of Charon “Can I call you by your given name as well, or would you prefer a different address?” she asked as she extended her hand in greeting.

“ _Charon is fine, my Queen._ ” he answered – his mother easily translating his groans and repeating his words in a way so both Lady Persephone as well as Lord Hades could understand what he had said. 

He reached out his right hand – adorned with golden rings just like his left – and gently wrapped his bony fingers around Lady Persephone's proffered one. Surprisingly she did not even so much as flinch or bat an eye at his touch nor his proximity.

Charon decided to go a step further and so he lifted Lady Persephone’s hand and brought it up – bowing his towering form down a little as he went – so he could press her hand against the left edge of his mouth in the closest approximation of a respectful hand-kiss that he could give – what with his void black teeth laying bare as they were.

When he straightened up again Lady Persephone was still smiling at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling “No need to be so formal.” she said easily, her voice completely unbothered by what had just happened, her tone gentle.

The ever present stream of purple smoke stuttered for a second – betraying Charon's pleasant surprise. He let go of Lady Persephone’s hand again and inclined his head a little at her wish. 

He would not call Lord Hades ‘King’, Charon thought, because all he truly was in his mother’s realm of the dead was a glorified scribe; taking the parchment and administration work off of mother Nyx’ shoulders, so the rest of the family could continue to work just as they always had. 

But Charon certainly had no problem bowing to this new Queen.


	5. You’ve Got Mail

It was kind of surprising how many things the dead actually still desired. They had no need for food nor drink, for trinkets or silks – especially so up in Elysium were most if not all of their desires were already met – and yet they still wanted them, for no other reason than to possess them and they were quite willing to trade whatever they had on them to get something that had caught their eyes.

Charon had found out that the dead still lusted for baubles and riches on accident quite some time ago – long before Lord Hades and Queen Persephone had stepped foot in the underworld. 

One day long ago his eye had been caught by the beautiful glint of a red gem in the dark – and Charon had always liked the way the lights of the underworld reflected off them, it made them look like blood, like the waters of Styx.

It had come loose from the earth easily – as if it recognized that Charon was born of the underworld too, just like it was. He had intended to bring it back to his personal space down in Erebus but a shade had seen the red gem in his hand and had started to haggle with him over it – literally offering the clothes off their back for it; holding out an expensive and embroidered shawl.

Charon had never before considered that the dead still held so much greed in their hearts, so it had been somewhat of an enlightening moment for him and later on he had decided to try and cater to that undying greed, especially since he could get his own hands on things that caught his eye that was too.

Gems for the legendary weapons of heroes, obols for fine silks, a trip on his boat to a different level of the underworld in exchange for a favour or maybe a dear family heirloom.

It was a real win/win situation – and Charon certainly made sure he won the most. He had always liked coming out on top of a deal after all.

It was early evening, which Charon knew thanks to the way the light gleamed off of the waters of the always sluggishly flowing Lethe. He was currently floating in Elysium beside one of his market stalls – tending to whatever needs the dead might have… for a price that was.

He knew there were no pressing matters to attend to, Thanatos’ next visit to drop of the souls of the mortals he had reaped over the day was still a good few hours away. So he did not mind lingering a little – taking in all the changes that were happening around Elysium as of late.

Now Elysium had always been beautiful – decorated and designed by his own mother – yet recently it had reached a new peak thanks to Queen Persephone's hard work. The Queen had a near magical way with plants and now blooms that Charon never thought would be able to grow underneath the very earth were sprouting up all over Elysium.

The place was positively blooming, teeming with verdant green plants; willow and pomegranate trees, and ivy too, lavender and lily's as far as the eye could see. The sweet scent and the vibrant colours of flowers had even drawn a few blue butterflies, their wings looking like opaque crystals – and Charon had quickly noticed that his brother Thanatos had taken a special liking to them.

The Queen was currently even thinking of installing a groove here, talking about new chambers and rooms with mother Nyx and, occasionally, even with Charon himself when she wanted to know something about the flow of Lethe – though there always had to be a ‘translator’ around for that to work.

The hour got later and Charon finally decided to shoo the few shades that were still looking around his shop away. Once he was alone again he started to pack his things – now owning several new pouches filled with coin. He had just hauled the last of his goods back into his ferry when the sound of battle caught his attention.

Now, the sound of battle wasn't uncommon in Elysium. Many of the heroes and warriors here spent their time testing their mettle against one another, their pride unbroken by death… but what he heard in that very moment didn't sound like competitive sparring, no, it sounded like a very small scale war.

If Charon had eyebrows he probably would have furrowed them. Behind him Lethe, who was always calmer than Styx or Phlegethon, and usually very sluggish indeed, suddenly picked up speed, lapping at the edges of the grassy fields – a worried wife trying to caution her husband to be careful.

Charon, in an attempt to sooth her, walked along the edges of the river for a few steps – letting her wet the very hem of his robes for a bit – before he gripped his oar tighter in his right hand and started to follow the noise.

He passed through two small chambers before he finally found the source of all the unrest – the door to the third chamber opened and revealed a handful of fighting shades, mainly spear and bow wielders, who were currently trying to hit a moving target… a very fast moving target.

For a second Charon had trouble focusing his glowing will-o'-wisp of an eye on the flash of bright orange and gold but when he finally got a good look all he could do was to let out a long-suffering groan, a thick, long stream of deep purple smoke rising from his mouth.

Another god… correction, another _**Olympian god**_ , had obviously entered the underworld – though only the rivers may know how he had managed to even get this far on his own, what with the ever moving chambers and ever changing flow of the rivers here in the underworld.

Charon assumed he would need to cut the god some slack for pure persistence, but that were all the concessions he was willing make here. Did the other god not know that there were rules that had to be followed? That he should have just waited for Charon up in the temple if he had anything of import to say or do here? That, by all rights, his presence could be seen as an invasion?

Another thick plume of smoke rose from the edges of Charon's mouth – arrogant, all of them, every last one. First they put one of their own in charge of a realm that by all rights did not even belong to them and now they didn't even hesitate anymore to just straight up bumble right into said realm without even announcing their arrival beforehand. Oh the sheer gall of them all! 

“Shoo, shoo!” the other god said, waving his Caduceus at the shades – and what a strange weapon indeed… then again, Charon felt like he, with his gold-adorned oar, certainly didn't have any room to judge in that regard.

“I'm already late and I’ll have you know I have never been late before, thank you very much! This is a first for me and, mind you, I'm not happy about that and I certainly don't intend to be any later than I already am, so how about you all just skitter off, I don't have time to play with any you.” he said, words so fast they seemed to nearly slur into each other – as if there was no time for glottal stops or even pauses for emphasis or breath.

With a near lightning quick move of his right arm he smacked his Caduceus into one of the Strongbow’s trying to get a clear target on him, and the pure speed of the impact alone flung the poor shade back.

The shade flew in an arch and finally landed in Lethe with a noisy splash. Lethe, for a moment, seemed to both visibly and audible shudder in displeasure and Charon heeded her soft call immediately – like a husband coming to remove a spider from the wall so his wife didn't have to. 

He walked towards the edge, where grass met water, and dipped his oar into Lethe’s waters, waiting for the shade to grasp the wood before he easily hauled them up again and onto dry land. He shook their desperately clamping fingers off of his oar, giving a low groan that was a command to stay, before he turned around again.

He walked towards the flying god still entangled in a fight with what had to be at least twenty exalted shades who were seemingly desperate to keep the intruder out and away from any doors that might lead deeper into the realm. Yet, at the same time, they also seemed incapable of actually landing a hit, given how quickly the god dodged.

Once Charon was in reach the Caduceus was suddenly swinging at him too but he simply raised his oar a little, the long wooden hilt catching the Caduceus in the space between the right wing and one of the twisting snakes – keeping it immobile. Around them the shades stopped their assault, lowering their weapons and slowly stepping back to let Charon handle the situation.

“I said I don't have time to play.” the flying god repeated, this time sounding less peppy and more annoyed. With a nearly untraceably quick twist of his hand he unhooked his Caduceus from around Charon's paddle and swung again.

Charon felt how a flicker of vicious anger surfaced – seldom used nowadays, but still achingly familiar to him. The other god was obviously thinking him a shade, something annoying to be swatted away – like an insect.

With an angry growl he raised his oar again, blocking the next incoming swing. Thick streams of smoke billowed out of his mouth, his burning will-o'-wisp of an eye focusing on the other god as his feet finally left the ground – closing the distance between them in a float.

On all edges of the chamber Lethe shuddered and roared, a usually so gentle, slow current; now roused and angered, frothing over the sides and splashing onto land. A vicious wife, reaching out her clawing hands like a Siren – trying to grasp and pull down and drown what had angered and dared to attack her husband.

At the small show of his power Charon finally saw recognition flutter over the other gods expression – he blinked his brown eyes in surprised realization, his arm holding the Caduceus relaxing and sinking a little, no longer trying to lash out and attack.

“Oh.” the god breathed “You must be one of those chthonic gods. Sorry about this whole kerfuffle here, never met one of your type you see, didn't really know what I should expect appearance wise, certainly wouldn't have tried to hit you if I had realized it sooner. So, sorry again, that one really was on me.” he blabbered, unhooking his Caduceus and letting it sink harmlessly to his side.

Now that certainly wasn't the kind of reaction Charon had expected – an actual apology alongside easy, non-degrading words. This god was talking to Charon as if they were actually equals and not as if every chthonic god was nothing more than dirt under the feet of an Olympian.

The unexpected manners made the anger Charon had felt flicker out again, to the point where all he did was to let out an irritated huff of purple smoke as his arm holding his oar lower too. He sank back down until his feet were touching the grass of Elysium again and then gave a soft reassurance to Lethe, who, after hearing his words, calmed down again, retreating back into her borders, lazily licking at the edges of Elysium once more.

Well, if the other god was acting civil and amenable then Charon would too. He tipped his head to the side a little, looking expectantly up at the flying god from under the wide brim of his hat. In lieu of trying to talk to the other god – since he was more than sure that he wouldn't be understood anyway even if he tried for words – he simply raised his free right hand and gave a demanding hand gesture.

“Oh yeah sure! Haven’t introduced myself yet, have I? Name is Hermes, son of Zeus, God of Swiftness mostly, but also god of coin, commerce, merchants, travellers, tricker… er, well, a whole bunch of other things too, you know how it is, godly purpose and duty and so on. Am also the messenger of Olympus, don't forget to mention that. In fact, it’s why I’m in this fine realm of yours, currently. You see, I got an errand to run here and I'm already behind, and I’m never behind, you know, it’s my very first time actually, being late that is. It’s just this place doesn't really seem to make sense map-wise and I think I took a wrong turn a while back, so if you would be so kind as to tell me how I can get to uncle Hades? Since I have here this letter for him.” the god, Hermes, said, patting the satchel at his side.

For a moment or two Charon was simply staring blankly up at the whirlwind of a god still flying in front of him, his right hand unconsciously reaching to hold onto his oar too, now gripping the wood in both of his hands. What a hassle, he thought, a steady stream of purple smoke leaving the left side of his mouth.

He tipped his head to the side a little as he mulled over how he should proceed from here on out. Lord Hades had made it quite clear that – for whatever reason – no one was allowed to know that Queen Persephone lived in this realm, so bringing the messenger to the house was certainly out of the question.

He could simply send him away again but the message might be something important, and while Lord Hades certainly had never given the impression that he cared much for what happened up on Olympus Charon didn't want to risk sending away a letter that might have vital information in it.

Well, he assumed sometimes the easiest, most obvious solution was also the best one – after all, if you hear hooves then think ‘horse’ and not ‘zebra’. So he unfastened his right hand from his oar again and reached it out, waiting expectantly.

Hermes blinked at him for a moment until, again, recognition settled over his face – and Charon had to give it to him, Hermes, at the very least, was able to figure out what he wanted a whole lot faster than most. He was certainly quicker on the uptake than his uncle Lord Hades, who always shouted for either one of his brothers or mother Nyx herself when he wanted a report from Charon.

“Oh, it’s mighty nice of you that you want to deliver the letter for me but you see, Pops actually said to deliver it in person, like face to face you see, so I can’t just give it to someone else, no can do, you see? Also I take some well deserved pride in my job, always speedily delivering everything without a hitch and it just wouldn't feel right to hand off a letter to someone else. Not that you don't seem like a right, fine and trustworthy fellow but it’s the messenger-pride compelling me here. So I regretfully have to decline your nice offer.”

Charon's hand sank further and further down with every new bunch of words flying out of Hermes’ mouth until finally it was curled around the hilt of his oar again. Never ending smoke billowed from his mouth as he regarded the other god.

Now, he would be a lair and a hypocrite to boot if he said that he didn't understand Hermes’ argument. He himself would never leave the delivery of souls to anyone else, not even one of his own brothers, and _**surely**_ not to a complete, random stranger – so why should the messenger of the gods themselves be more willing to pawn off an important letter to someone he had never met before? It was a more than sensible work rule.

… Still, if Hermes did not want to part from his letter and Charon could not bring him to the house without risking disaster then they had both reached a stalemate here – no way back nor forth. Really, what a hassle, Charon thought again with more emphasis this time as he let out a long-suffering groan, a curtain of smoke raising from his mouth.

“Ahm…” it was a slightly confused sound “I'm not quite sure what that there was supposed to mean just now.” Hermes was looking at him with furrowed brows, a serious look on his face as if he was actually trying to figure out what Charon's noise might have meant – again, not something Charon would have expected of an Olympian.

“ _It was not supposed to mean anything_.” Charon groaned out “ _Not that you understand what I am saying_.” he added after a short pause in a more exhausted sounding string of groans, strands of purple, chthonic smoke wafting out of his mouth alongside the noises he made. He suppressed the urge to raise his right hand again and rub it over his face.

Well, he could tell Hermes to just stay where he was and he would go fetch either Lord Hades or maybe mother Nyx… but – looking up from under the brim of his hat again, purple eye fixing on the other god in front of him – he genuinely doubted Hermes would actually stay put… in fact, he might just try to follow Charon and that was a definite no-go as well. It was just smarter to stay close to the other god and not leave him alone somewhere, so he could prevent him from ending up somewhere he shouldn't and maybe finding out something he wasn't supposed to.

For a second Charon was still until he finally settled on a decision. If push came to shove, he could always quickly drag Hermes into his father’s realm – into the unending darkness of Erebus – to remind him of the reason why chthonic gods were feared.

And so he finally gave in. He let out another long-suffering groan and then started to move, waving his right hand in a ‘come-hither’ motion, signalling that the other god should follow him.

“It’s very nice that you want to show me the way, but I would be undoubtedly much quicker if you just told me which way the right one is, you know? Maybe you should put up some signs around here, it’s a true labyrinth this place, every chamber looking the same. Not that all of this isn't really pretty, but after the seventeenth willow tree it just gets a little old.”

Not for the first time in his countless centuries of existence did Charon wish for the ability to roll his eye. His chest rose and fell with a quick, annoyed huff that puffed out a big cloud of purple smoke. 

How he would love to turn around and tell the other god that he, indeed, _**wouldn't**_ be quicker if Charon just pointed him in the supposed ‘right direction’. To explain to him that the chambers of this realm rearranged themselves constantly, moving with the mood of the rivers and that he was the other gods only real hope of getting down to Tartarus in a timely manner – not to mention getting up from Tartarus and out again after his business was done.

Still, even if Hermes could understand him, Charon doubted that his words and sentiments would be taken serious – in fact, he feared that the Olympian might simply take them as a challenge, and that was truly the last thing they needed around here; some god, fuelled by pride, trying to break in and out of the underworld.

In the end Charon simply let out a low groan, waving his hand again, this time in a more choppy and impatient motion – prompting the god to just follow him and stop complaining. And finally Hermes took the hint and followed, the wings on his boots and the ones growing from his head flapping quickly as he closed the distance until he was flying to Charon's right, front facing the ground, flying so high he was shoulder-height with Charon, nearly looking down at the boatman's towering form.

“Look, this is really nice but-”

Whatever the other god wanted to say it was cut off by Charon who let out an irritated hissing sound along a thick stream of smoke – the sound was soon joined by a loud roar as Lethe started to slosh over the edges again, seemingly trying to upheaval the land around them, ready to answer his call.

Hermes clamped his mouth shut at that and put up two hands in a posture that was supposed to look non-threatening “Okay, okay. Got you boss.” he rushed to calm him.

Charon let out an annoyed huff of smoke and continued on his way while Lethe again, receded into her boundaries, though her waters were slapping against the edges a little faster than was usual – she was clearly irritated too at this point.

Charon glanced at the licking water and its quickened flow. He walked a little arch, taking a few steps right along the edges and Lethe, again, wetted his hem, letting herself be soothed by his presence until her flow was just as sluggish and lazy is it normally was.

“Nice trick.” the god flapping at his side quipped up suddenly “Only ever saw uncle Poseidon do something like that, controlling water and rivers and the like.”

Again, if Charon had lips he probably would have curled them in distaste – he settled on simply shooting the other god a look – his purple vortex of an eye switching from his left side; where he had been looking at Lethe before, to his right so he could fix the Olympian in a blank stare.

He wasn't ‘controlling’ Lethe, or any of the rivers of the underworld for that matter. No. They simply had a connection, the rivers accepted him and he accepted them in turn, they heeded each others calls, coming to each others aid – devout to one another, bound and ever faithful, like husband and spouses.

Not that Charon would be able to explain the concept to the other god, the feel of it, the pull he felt in his chest. He doubted anyone would be able to grasp the connection they had – probably not even mother Nyx herself.

Instead of trying to convey any of those abstract sentiments with an obvious language barrier between them Charon simply remained silent – let Hermes think what he wanted, it didn't matter either way. After today he would hopefully never see the other god again, so why even bother?

In all the excitement Lethe had changed her course faster than usually and Charon followed her beckoning, taking the left door out of the chamber instead of the right door through which he had originally entered.

Another crossed chamber later and he was finally drawing closer to his boat again. He gave a sweeping hand gesture, indicating his ferry – his pride and joy – offering a free ride to Hermes – something only a select few had ever gotten.

“You want to row me? Well, that is certainly a nice offer but I can simply fly you know. In fact, so can you, from what I saw before, so can’t we just-”

Charon let out a thick cloud of smoke which made his irritation rather visible and jerked his right arm downward in an impatient motion towards his ferry. They were both wasting time here and the hour was getting later and later – at this rate he might actually miss his nightly meet-up with Thanatos; and his younger brother could get rather crabby when the souls he had collected weren't taken off his hands in a timely manner so he could return to reaping more.

What Hermes didn't know was the fact that Charon himself hated to be late too. He had places to be and work to do and he certainly didn't have time to stand around here all night and have a round of pantomime with a stubborn god.

“Well, if you insist.” Hermes, fortunately, finally conceded, flying closer to the ferry. He let out a whistle – Charon wasn't sure if the noise was supposed to be impressed or surprised “Now that is an interesting boat if I have ever seen one. Packed full too.” he blabbered in that spit-fire way of his. He sat down on one of the benches, his hands already reaching out for one of the bags stored on the ferry.

Charon, lighting-quick, stamped his oar onto the bottom of the ferry, right between the bag and Hermes’ hands – blocking his path. He let out a low wheezing groan. If the other god wanted something he had to buy it just like everyone else and Charon honestly doubted that Hermes had any sort of obols or other valuables on him.

“Sorry.” Hermes simply laughed, raising up his hands in surrender again “Athena always tells me I'm too curious for my own good. Still,” he looked around the boat while Charon floated towards his designated spot, feet soon touching the wood of his ferry “That's a mighty big stash you have here, you a merchant too?”

Charon dipped his oar into Lethe and pushed off, easily rowing in his usual, fluid motion. He fixed his eye on the other god – how strange that he tried to have a conversation with Charon, especially when it was so obvious that Charon wasn't able to talk in ‘words’.

No other Olympian – with the newest exception of Lord Hades and Queen Persephone – had ever tried to romp him into a dialogue. Hermes also seemed utterly unfazed by Charon's appearance – in fact, he was even smiling up at the boatman. 

After a beat of stillness, Charon simply inclined his head in a nod – he assumed there was no harm in humouring a few questions, keep the other god quiet and still, to minimize any possible risks of him running off in boredom.

Hermes gave another whistle at that “I already mentioned that I'm also the god of merchants, no? Nothing quite like making a good deal, you know, one that benefits you most.”

Again, Charon inclined his head in agreement – genuine agreement too – there was nothing worse than getting the short end of the stick, forced to make a bad deal that would lead nowhere; lose money, or goods, or time, or all three.

“Always feel most comfortable with a bit of spare change flying around, you know, never sure when you might need some. Not all that useful on Olympus but mortals are drawn to the stuff like moths to fire, burning their wings for it.” Hermes prattled on easily, stretching his legs out more.

His voice had taken on a new cadence though and Charon fixed his eye on the other god – his own calculating stare was met by two equally calculating brown eyes – and for a moment the only sound was Lethe’s gentle flowing and the steady, near clockwork-work-like splash that signalled Charon's rowing.

Hermes face suddenly split into a wide grin that was supposed to look harmless and easy-going but Charon had already caught the whiff of blood in the water and, as a larger-than-usual stream of smoke rose from the sides of his mouth, Lethe picked up her pace in answer to his wariness.

“And, my good fellow, it seems like you are too.” Hermes went on, smilingly, raising one of his hands to pat at his own chest – between his collarbones – at the same place where the golden gorget that held Charon's second layer of robes was adorned with strings and strings of obols.

If Charon could have squinted he probably would have. Was there an end goal to the other gods blabber or was this just for his amusement? Did he simply want to test Charon, see his reaction? Or was he trying to get at something? 

He should know better than to try and cheat the Stygian Boatman himself. And if he thought he could simply buy Charon's complacency then he was dead wrong too.

True, there was not a lot Charon _**wouldn't do**_ for a nice, hefty sum of coin – but he also had his convictions and his own rules. And no amount of money could ever bring him to waver from those. Even if Hermes could somehow procure the riches of the entire world to put them before Charon's very feet, Charon would never even consider raise his hand against the house or its denizens. He belonged here, much like the rivers did, and all his actions – ultimately – were meant to aid the house, not bring it down.

In the end Charon let out a few smaller puffs of smoke – an amused chuckle. Fine, let the little god try and trick him if that was what he was trying to do – and then let him reap what he had sown, let him pay his due in full. 

And so Charon inclined his head again, answering ‘yes’ to the question that had been asked indirectly. Yes, indeed, he _**did**_ like coin; their golden glitter, like some of mother’s stars at night, like the reflections caught in his own chthonic smoke – like the blood of gods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Hermes does finally appear in this too. Also, in case any of you feel like this chapter ends a little abruptly that's because 5 and 6 originally were one single chapter but I felt like it was becoming too long so I split it in two.


	6. A Cosy Ferry Ride

Soon enough Lethe bleed into the flames of Phlegethon, as they crossed downwards from Elysium and into Asphodel. An astonished noise made Charon look up, seeing how Hermes watched the inferno of Phlegethon around them, and barely a moment later, the god started commenting on the fact that the wooden ferry didn't catch fire – which was a silly observation really, of course it did not catch fire, as if Phlegethon would ever raise his flames against Charon of all people.

A few puffs of smoke signalled Charon's amusement as he continued to row them further down. For a few seconds it was quiet again before Hermes spoke up anew as if he just couldn't stay quiet.

The god of swiftness commented on the endlessness of the grassy meadows that were interspersed with a few colourful dots of flowers here or there, and then on the shades milling about, which were casting curious looks in their direction – which was only to be expected, since it was very rare indeed for Charon to ferry a god around, much less a god that did not belong into the house.

Hermes, seemingly, couldn't help himself but comment on _**absolutely everything**_ that caught his attention for more than a split-second. And while his blabber might have appeared mindless Charon saw the other god casting glances at him from time to time – gauging his reaction, brown eyes flickering between his sunken, expressionless face and the intensity and thickness of the smoke that was ever billowing from his mouth.

Clever, Charon had to give it to him – even Lord Hades still tried to vainly read his face, and it certainly was no use to him – only his brothers and his mother knew to read the flicker of his purple smoke, look to it when he chose to remain quiet, discern from it if he was amused or irritated or something else entirely.

Here or there Hermes asked a question, either directly or through vague wording and sometimes Charon remained still while other times he either nodded or shook his head. It certainly was an interesting game, keeping each other guessing – sparring, not with weapons but with words and wit instead – now that, Charon could indeed appreciate.

When last the Olympians had been here, blood-smeared, strewing bits and pieces of their parents around, they had looked at him as if he was nothing but a gormless husk, just there to fulfil a duty and not worthy of any kind of attention. Only half a step above a shade.

And now here was Hermes, challenging him to a fast-paced dance of wit, even though he couldn't even understand Charon's words – only read his body posture and the steady stream of slightly glittering smoke always escaping the edges of his mouth.

As much as Charon tried not to, he was actually starting to like the other god. He was a little too daring, a blabber-mouth that liked to quip and talk back, slightly jittery too, bouncing his legs or waving his arms. But at the very least he had manners and knew to respect a fellow god – which was already more than could be said of most of his kin. Also, Charon could certainly recognize and appreciate his obvious cleverness.

After Queen Persephone – whom he had grown to greatly respect and appreciate since she had appeared in the underworld – Charon might even be willing to name Hermes as the officially second least annoying Olympian he had ever met.

At that particular thought a few puffs of smoke rose from his mouth – making his amusement obvious. He watched as Hermes’ sharp eyes followed the rising purple clouds, his brows furrowed slightly – he was likely wondering what had caused Charon's sudden reaction – and that only made Charon puff out a few more clouds; his very own way of chuckling.

Burning Phlegethon, as always, soon gave way to the blood-red grasping hands of Styx, her many hands and fingers brushing against Charon's ferry in a welcome-home-caress – a wife greeting her husband at the door, and Charon couldn't help but let out a gentle groan, greeting her too.

He had stood so long down here, back then, before this realm had been made a final resting place for mortal souls, waiting and waiting, floating near mindlessly with only Styx’s soothing presence to keep him company.

Charon knew that she had been delighted when she had realized that he was set free again, able to traverse her sister Lethe and brothers Phlegethon and Acheron once more, and yet he also knew that she missed him when he left and was always gladdened by his every return – even after all the centuries they had endured down here, alone, with only each other.

A small sound of realization distracted Charon from his conversation with Styx and made him look up from her again, his will-o'-wisp of an eye instead drawing to Hermes, who, by now, was more or less lounging in his boat.

“I think I finally got it, took me a while, boss, I’ll admit. You see, uncle Poseidon acts a whole lot different and I thought all of this worked out for you just like it does for him but huh, who would have thought, it actually doesn't. Instead you and the water talk, well, at the very least a version of talking, no?”

He looked so smug, perched there on the sitting bench of the ferry, a wide grin splitting his face. And he was close, yes, Charon would give him that – but while the rivers and he certainly did talk to one another, in their own way that was, he did not get them to do anything for him just by talking to them or ‘commanding’ them as Hermes seemed to think.

No, the rivers responded to him because they were connected, because he understood and aided them and because of the way he adored them which made them adore him back just as ardently – all of it, it was mutual; seated so much deeper than the god currently sitting in his ferry could ever possibly comprehend. He could not feel the stirring in Charon's chest, the wordless bond, how the rivers reacted to his very moods, answering them, joining him in both his most serene moments as well as his greatest wrath.

He let out a few puffs of smoke, betraying his chuckle, and that alone made Hermes’ expression drop in a sort of miffed defeat – something that reminded Charon dangerously of when his brothers had still been younger; of Thanatos’ severe pouts or Hypnos’ fussy complaining.

The god of swiftness was quiet after that, his arms crossed over his chest and Charon thought he looked rather petulant like that. Maybe his pride was wounded – maybe he had been so very sure of his idea and being, more or less, told that he was wrong had been an unexpectedly harsh jab to his seemingly endless confidence. 

Still, whatever might have been the case, he did not speak up again. His brown eyes were watching the waters of Styx, her grasping hands, her deep red swirling – there was an expression of deep concentration on his face as if he somehow expected Styx to tell him how Charon's powers worked.

If Charon could have snorted he might have, but since he couldn't he just shook his head to himself and continued on his path. A few long moments passed and then he finally stopped his ferry at the small protruding platform close to the entrance of the house – reaching his destination.

“Well, thanks for the lift.” Hermes suddenly quipped up again now that they had stopped “Mighty nice to offer your services, nice chatting too, but I really have to be off now, get this letter dropped off and then be on my merry way again so-” Hermes, during his rapid-fire speech had already started to flap his wings again, ready to zoom off and away – intend on leaving Charon in his dust.

Which was very much unacceptable, and so Charon cut the other god off, stopping him mid-take-off by slamming his oar down in front of him – blocking him quite viciously, around them Styx shuddered. He let out a low growl and red water started to splash against the wood of the boat and the stone of Tartarus. Charon lifted his oar for a moment before he tapped it down again, this time a lot gentler – not a warning but instead a soft command.

“So… I guess I’ll stay here?” Hermes ventured, raising a brow at Charon, clearly demanding to know if he had guessed right. He did look somewhat irritated at this point, very obviously used to going at his own pace and not at all thrilled by the thought of slowing down because of someone else… Not that Charon cared. 

This was the underworld not Olympus or even earth. And there were rules here, both spoken as well as implied. Hermes had already been bold enough to more or less trespass – even if he was here on an honest errand – so the least he could do now was being patient and acquiescing to the will of the gods who actually ruled this realm. It would not kill him to follow procedure, Charon thought.

In the end he only nodded a mute yes to the asked question before he floated off of his ferry and landed a few steps away on the stone path of Tartarus. He fixed his eye on the other god and tapped his oar down again – a reminder and a warning both this time: Stay.

He waited for a moment longer – making sure his message was understood – before he walked towards the entrance of the house, secure in the knowledge that; should Hermes indeed try something, Styx would grasp for him. She was always less patient and more eager to froth up than any of her siblings and she certainly would not stand for someone disregarding Charon's direct commands.

And so he approached the door leading to the newly planted gardens, climbing the steps, his oar pointing downwards, resting loosely and his left hand – as non-threatening as he ever could be.

“Oh, Charon! What a rare sight.” Queen Persephone greeted him, smiling. Her hands and arms were covered in dirt up to her elbows, a few smudges even visible on her cheek. She was shrewd like mother Nyx, possessing a gentle, calm presence like Lethe, and yet she also could burn with wrath just like Phlegethon, frothing like Styx if something dared to wrong her.

Maybe it were all those similarities that made Charon feel quite taken with her, made him more ready to heed her rules and commands, made him bend without complaint.

He bowed a little at the hip and raised his right hand to silently tip his hat in greeting. He let it sink slightly as he straightened up again, pressing a bony, ring-adorned finger against his bared, void-black teeth – a clear sign: Hush. Charon could not risk Hermes hearing her voice or maybe even recognizing it.

He let out a series of groans, asking for mother Nyx – and while Queen Persephone was unable to really understand him, just like her husband was – she, at the very least, had endeavoured to learn a few of the most important noises and cadences, like the sounds he used to ask for either one of his brothers or, in this case, mother Nyx.

Charon saw recognition flicker in her emerald eyes. She nodded once and straightened from where she had been kneeling in the grass of the garden. She brushed her hands off on her dress in an unconscious motion before she turned and left to fetch mother Nyx.

In the meantime Charon remained where he was, a vigilant sentinel – just in case Hermes got any daring ideas and somehow managed to outspeed Styx’s clawing hands. It did not take long at all until Queen Persephone, now with his mother in tow, returned to the garden.

“Charon.” mother Nyx greeted in her low, gentle tone – and Charon tipped his hat at her too “What brought you here, my child?” she asked, straight to the point.

Charon let out a series of groans, explaining the current predicament. As he explained mother Nyx’s expression became slightly pinched, something which Queen Persephone seemed to immediately pick up on because she was quick to throw a worried glance at the tall goddess beside her. One of her hands rose, fingers gently falling into the bend of mother Nyx’s inner elbow – it was obviously meant as a calming reassurance.

“I see.” mother Nyx finally nodded “It was wise of you to not leave him alone to roam this realm, though that leaves us with quite a different sort of problem now.” for a second it was quiet before mother Nyx turned in the air a little, floating to face the Queen beside her. 

“My Queen.” she started, inclining her head slightly “It seems we have a visitor from Olympus who is quite set on meeting the Lord of this realm personally. It would be best to retreat to your chambers for the time being, so that he will not accidentally lay eyes on you. Come, I will accompany you to your rooms and then fetch Lord Hades.” she explained, raising her own hand to place it on Queen Persephone’s resting on her arm.

The Queen’s eyes had momentarily widened in worry at the mention of Olympus but she was now gradually relaxing again at mother Nyx’s calm, unwavering demeanour. She nodded once, mutely, and then turned to leave – her hand slipping away from mother Nyx’s arm to fall back to her side again.

Mother Nyx lingered a moment longer, her golden eyes turning to Charon “My child, I pray it will not come to it, but if he does indeed try to pass the gates to this garden while I am away, keep him out of the house by any means necessary.”

Her voice had taken on a harder edge, a second Queen felling a final judgement, and Charon inclined his head at her command, giving an affirmative groan. And with those words she turned too, escorting Queen Persephone away from any eyes who might wish to pry.

Charon for his part faithfully remained where he was – oar gripped securely in his left hand, facing the gate of the garden, feet slowly leaving the ground as they were wont to do when he remained stationary for too long.

He did not turn – even at the noise of thundering steps behind him and an enraged deep voice cursing out all of Olympus – he only budged as the soft touch of mother Nyx brushed his right shoulder. He groaned in affirmation and then lead both his mother as well as Lord Hades out.

Fortunately Hermes was still sitting on the bench of the ferry – though his at least somewhat straight posture had slouched considerably since Charon had left him there – for a blink of an eye Charon could see clear distaste and irritation written all over the gods expression before it was replaced with an easy-going smile as he noticed all of them approaching. Hermes boldly waved at them “Does that mean I can finally get out?” he asked, cheekily.

“And what do you want here?” was all Lord Hades asked, his tone of voice clearly making his displeasure known.

“So I guess you must be Lord uncle Hades then.” Hermes started, wings flapping as he took off to fly towards the three of them “Good to finally meet you in the flesh, only heard stories so far. I'm Hermes, son of Zeus, god of swiftness and quite a few other things too. Not important right now though. The important bit is that I'm also the messenger of Olympus and I got here this letter for you, which old Pops told me I should deliver face to face.” he was already rummaging in his satchel while he was spewing out a constant stream of words.

Finally he procured a letter with a wax seal – probably the sigil of Olympus if Charon had to guess, though he wouldn't bet any of his coin on that guess.

“Which I have now done to the best of my abilities.” Hermes ended, motioning with the letter, a clear demand for Lord Hades to take it off his hands.

Lord Hades on his part only scoffed “Of course, another one of Zeus’ brood.” he cursed softly under his breath before he yanked the letter from Hermes’ hands “The next time you have anything to deliver to me you give it to Charon and don't hold up everything down here with your presence.” he gave a sweeping hand gesture to Charon, who simply groaned low in agreement, signalling that he would gladly take and deliver any letters – it certainly beat the kerfuffle they were having right now.

Hermes smiled an easy-going smile, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender; and yet his voice was full of enthusiasm-covered barbs when he answered “Truthfully? Would have loved not to waste quite so much time here, though it’s a lovely place, don't get me wrong, but I’ve quite a lot more deliveries to make, you see. But old Pops told me to deliver it in person and so that's what I did, was an explicit order you see. Couldn’t have done anything else, you know how it is. And also messenger-pride prevents me from just giving important letters to just anyone, it’s just not proper conduct, you see?”

Lord Hades’ eyes sparked like the waters of Styx did when she was at her most wrath-filled “I do not care what you consider ‘proper conduct’. And I also do not care who of my brothers orders you to come see me in person. The next time you have a letter for me you wait at the temple and give it to Charon. Are we understood?!”

For a second Hermes’ mouth curled in distaste though it was but a very brief crack in his guileless, happy expression “Will definitely tell Pops and the others at home that you do not appreciate direct delivery and that I'm supposed to reach their letters over to someone else for the final stretch of the way. Can’t guarantee that they’ll like it or follow that request though, you know how it is.” he shrugged at the last part.

“Bah!” Lord Hades downright spat “Oh, I know how it is!” he scoffed before he abruptly turned around again, angrily stomping up the steps to the garden gate – leaving mother Nyx, Hermes and Charon alone.

A beat of utter silence and then “Well, guess I caught him at a bad time.” Hermes started, he shrugged once before he turned to mother Nyx “Sorry for the inconvenience there but I rather face the ire of an uncle stuck down here than Pops up there.” Hermes explained, nearly flippantly once Lord Hades was out of earshot “Anyway, duty fulfilled! Guess I’ll just leave then, don't worry I’ll find the way out myself.” he said, saluting a good-bye to mother Nyx – which, again, was showing he had more decorum than most of his kin. Yet his words also showed his hard-headed ignorance clearly and Charon only gave a scoff at hearing them – a thick puff of smoke rising from the sides of his mouth, showing his obvious annoyance.

“Wait Lord Hermes.” mother Nyx’s gentle, calm voice spoke up and it actually halted the other god in his track. Hermes threw a somewhat impatient look at mother Nyx but he stayed where he was, wings on his boots and on his head flapping quickly.

Mother Nyx’s right hand, which she had stretched out as if to grab hold of Hermes’ retreating form fell back down, where she placed it over her other hand in her lap “This is a realm for the departed, full of mortal souls who often wish for nothing more than another chance at life. Therefore this realm is build to keep them and make escape impossible. All chambers move with the moods of the rivers, rearranging themselves constantly. I am afraid you won’t be able to find the exit if left to your own devices.”

Hermes’ brows furrowed at that “So what are you saying here exactly? I'm trapped?”

“No.” mother Nyx answered, her left hand raising, fingers curling loosely inwards – her normal resting position “But what I am saying is that you will not be able to leave without a guide.” she turned slightly in the air, her golden eyes landing on Charon “Will you please bring him back again, my child, so that he might not get lost?”

It was an unnecessary request – they both knew it – since Charon would have done it either way. Still, he inclined his head and gave an agreeable groan.

“Thank you.” mother Nyx said, nodding her head once as well. It was Charon's cue to get moving again, he flexed the fingers of his left hand around his oar and began to walk towards his ferry. He gave a groan and a wave – demanding Hermes follow him.

“He is asking that you follow him.” mother Nyx translated – rightly assuming that Hermes had no idea what Charon was saying.

Hermes was stalling for a second, throwing a doubtful look at mother Nyx “Is that really the quickest way? You know, I got a lot of other things to deliver, letters, and gifts and parcels and the like and I really don't have time to sit around and have a cosy ferry-ride.”

Charon's will-o'-wisp of an eye flickered angrily towards the god still arguing with mother Nyx – were they really going to have the same discussion again? Truly? A second time?

Charon let out a string of irritated groans and jerked a demanding hand towards his ferry. Styx’s waters picked up peace at that, sharing in his frustration.

Maybe it was by instinct or unthinking habit – now that Lord Hades and Queen Persephone, who needed someone to translate for them, were around – or maybe it was on pure purpose, but mother Nyx easily repeated what Charon had said.

“He says that his ferry is the quickest and safest way out. That he still has to meet his brother, and he would prefer not to be late. So he asks, again, that you please stop wasting time and simply step onto the ferry.”

That seemed to stump Hermes for a second. Charon watched as the other god blinked his brown eyes first in surprise and then in realization as he seemingly finally caught on to the fact that Charon's groaning was indeed talking “You understand him?” he sounded both completely baffled as well as utterly intrigued by that realization. 

“Of course I do.” mother Nyx actually sounded somewhat amused by that “What kind of mother would I be if I did not understand my own child?” her amusement faded from her voice quickly though as she continued “Did you assume his utterances did not translate into words?”

“I…” Hermes seemed to actually flounder for a second “I mean, I _**did**_ think he was communicating in his own way, but I didn't think that it translated this clearly, or at all for that matter.” he tried to explain his thoughts.

Mother Nyx let out a low hum at that “Many think that way. But no. Charon can speak just as eloquently as you or I, others often simply have troubles understanding him. Please, my Lord, don't take his way of speech as a sign for lack of cleverness.” her words were low, she sounded displeased at the notion that someone might think her son a fool for his lack of ‘proper words’.

Hermes’ eyes widened a little as he obviously realized that he had put his foot in his mouth. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he seemingly tried to come up with a way to explain himself that wouldn't come out wrong and potentially anger the goddess in front of him. 

A moment or two passed and then Charon decide to take pity on the other god. He let out a soft noise to catch mother Nyx’s attention and she turned towards him nearly instantly.

“ _He does not think me a fool, mother._ ” he said, words nothing but a long series of low groans “ _He is surprisingly well-mannered and did not talk down to me once. He is also more astute and keen than he seems and figured out quickly that I am easily his equal in wit. He even dared to try and trick me into revealing more than would be acceptable by asking questions and gauging my reactions._ ” at that last part he puffed out an especially thick cloud of smoke on purpose – making it clear what he meant with ‘reactions’.

A second passed and then Mother Nyx nodded “I see.” she said, her voice calm and gentle again – pacified. And with that she returned her gaze back to Hermes “I see now what you meant. Please excuse me for misinterpreting your words.” she inclined her head once in apology “I hope you will forgive me for cutting this short, but I think we all should best return to our respective work now.”

Taking the cue for what it was Hermes quickly nodded “Yeah, that sounds pretty good actually. Am already mighty behind on work and deliveries, never happened before, got to reiterate that, just to be sure. Just got lost here. Feeling a bit better now though, now that I know that this place is actually build to get lost in, would have been kind of embarrassing otherwise. Anyway, nice chatting but I really got to sprint now.” he threw another salute at mother Nyx and then turned in the air, flying towards Charon's ferry.

Charon followed the quick-paced god, easily floated to his designated spot, feet soon touching the wood, his oar dipping into the red waters of Styx. Mother Nyx remained where she was, seeing them off, standing vigil while Charon pushed his ferry off – making sure Hermes would not flit off and try to get into the house, no matter how unlikely that seemed at this point.

For the longest time they rowed in silence and Styx’s red waters had already given way to Phlegethon’s burning fires when Hermes finally spoke up again “So all that-” he waved his hand as if that could somehow procure a decent word to use “noise-” he finally settled on though he did not seem happy with his choice of word if the way his nose scrunching up a little was any indicator “that's your talking? Kind of like an own language then?”

Well, Charon thought, he was not wrong – and so he simply inclined his head. Hermes’ brows furrowed a bit at that “So I'm just going to assume that you have been saying who knows what right to my face this whole time, making a right fool out of me, without me even understanding what you said?”

A few puffs of slightly glittering purple smoke – betraying Charon's mute amusement – were all Hermes needed. The god of swiftness stretched his legs out a little more, his left elbow on the edge of the ferry, his chin resting on his fist “Yes, yes, hahaha. Laugh it up.” he said, though Charon spotted a twinkle of amusement in his brown eyes “You got me, got to give it to you. You win this one.” he lifted his unoccupied hand up into the air in mock-surrender and a smile cracked over his face – a genuine one by the looks of it – crinkling the edges of his eyes.

“You can count yourself lucky that I'm not as vindictive as the rest of my family, you know, ready to smite someone for the tiniest thing, like for example ridiculing me right to my face without me realizing it-” he threw a nearly nonchalant glance at the burning fire of Phlegethon “then again, not really sure who would win a smiting-contest around here. Kind of get the feeling that you have the high ground here, it’s your realm after all; might look different above ground though, get you away from your rivers, but since we aren't above ground no sense wondering, no?” he shrugged. 

“Guess it would boil down to how long and how well both of us can dodge, battle of endurance. Never was a fan of those, always found them kind of boring, too long-winded, never seem to end, you know. Waste of everyone's time. Am always the type to be drawn to tests of speed or wit instead, much more fun, fast tongue, thinking on the fly, or quick feet, getting some distance in, not just standing around gathering moss.”

There was a second of pause and then sharp brown eyes settled on Charon. Hermes’ mouth suddenly curled, lips flatting a bit in an expression of actual, honest regret “Bit of a pity that I can’t understand any of your responses actually.” he said “You seem like someone able to hold your own in a battle of wit, always like people who can charm the whiskers off a cat, you know, sell a drowning man water, that type of person. Assume that description fits you kind of well, since you’re seemingly selling dead people things they don't really need anymore.” here Hermes nudged one of Charon's sacks of wares with one of his feet. 

“No better trickster than a good merchant, I always say.” the god of swiftness continued, drawing his foot back into its previous position – at this point he was nearly sprawled lazily all over the back most bench of Charon's ferry; as if it was some chaise up on Olympus.

Charon let out a low, rather unimpressed noise, fixing a deadpan stare at the other god – flattery wouldn't get him anywhere either. And again, as if Hermes had red his mind, the god of swiftness started to chuckle “No, no, I mean it actually. Don’t have to believe me if you don't want to, of course, but I'm not lying here. Course you have to take my word for it, no other prove I can give you here.” he shrugged at the last part.

At this point they had long since passed Asphodel and indeed were already on the final stretch of Elysium – and soon enough they broke free from the earth, finally stopping in the Temple Styx… and not a moment too early either because-

“Brother.” Thanatos’ voice already called for him before Charon even had fully stopped the ferry “I nearly feared something had happened, you usually don't…” Thanatos – who had been floating closer, a large bunch of souls in tow – suddenly cut himself off as he noticed the unexpected passenger sitting in the ferry – at being spotted Hermes just gave a cheeky wave to the god of Death. 

Thanatos’ brows furrowed at the casual, downright friendly display and he raised his golden eyes to throw a questioning gaze at his brother. Charon for his part just let out a series of groans, telling Thanatos that he would explain everything to him later if he was truly interested.

“Very well.” his younger brother simply conceded before he closed the last bit of distance between himself and the ferry, drawing closer to Charon “I will simply leave everything else to you then.” he said. He waited a second longer for Charon's nod and then, a blink of an eye later, he had vanished again with a pop and a flash of green light.

“Not the most talkative one, that one, no? Must be running in the family.” Hermes chuckled, his wings started to flap and a second later he took off, flying off the ferry “Well, lovely boat ride, and truly splendid realm you all have down there, but I really-” here he cut himself off for a second, flying a little higher to escape the grasping hands of some of the shades who were desperate enough to try and grab at a god just to have the chance at another life.

“Oh no, I'm not going to give you a lift, that's the job of this nice fellow there.” he indicated Charon with a nod “So don't even think about it, am busy enough as it is, don't have time to fool around with any of you. So now that we all are on the same page, I really got to go.” he aimed a lazy salute at Charon, his wings flapping, picking up speed and suddenly he was gone – nothing more than an orange-golden flash, his long scarf whipping in the air after him, like a flag on a pole caught in a hurricane.

Charon looked after the other god for a second – just for long enough that he could be sure that Hermes was truly gone – and then he let out another long-suffering noise, though it sounded much less annoyed than he would have liked – in fact, the sound was very reminiscent of the fondly-irritated groans he had let out all those centuries ago when he had had the misfortune of realizing that young Thanatos had accidentally teleported away again.

In the end he just shook his head before he knocked his oar against the ground – a demand and a warning both – and all the shades scrambled to comply, getting into an orderly line. He stretched his right hand out as was normal, and every shade placed their obol.

One coin, though, suddenly made Charon halt. He drew his hand back towards himself slightly and let go of his oar with the other – the oar continued to float faithfully at his side – he used his newly freed up hand to pick out the one obol that had caught his eye.

It was the right size. Pure gold, like any other in his collection too… and yet the engraving on it was special. Where before all coins had carried the normal coinage – faces of rulers, or gods or whatever else mortals liked to put on them – this one was blank on one side and held the crest of Lord Hades on the other.

Charon twirled the coin in his hand for a moment, getting a feel for it before he looked up to the few shades still waiting to pay their due so they could step onto his ferry. He put the coin bearing Lord Hades’ crest back with the rest, stretching his hand out again to collect the last few obols.

He assumed this was only the latest in a long list of changes around the house – pomegranates in Elysium and now the appearance of a new type of obol, meant specifically for burials. 

But still, gold was gold and Charon would take it without discrimination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case any of you are wondering, yes, I know there is another river – Cocytos – running through the underworld beside Styx, Lethe, Phlegethon and Acheron but since that one isn't mentioned and does not appear in the game I choose to not include it. I also went with the game for the underworld layout in this fic, so several floors, going from Tartarus upwards, which I know isn't super faithful to the original myths either.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading this far <3 Comments are always appreciated.


	7. Audience

As time went on more and more changes happened around the house. Now some of those changes Charon genuinely liked, some others he was indifferent to and a few he was rather doubtful about. Yet it did not really matter if Charon liked something or not, it really wasn't his business – as long as non of those changes negatively impacted his work and his business he usually would do his very best to simply ignore what displeased him. He, after all, had no desire to pick a fight or to intentionally step over a line.

And yet, one change had Charon actually considering to speak up for once. There was an unusual influx of shades – they suddenly got more souls in a shorter period of time than ever before. Now that Charon thought on it. all of it had actually began a short while after Lord Hades and Queen Persephone had started living here… though Charon wasn't too sure if that was just a coincident or if there was something else at work, after all, one could never know with gods.

Either way, he actually did not care all that much about what might or might not be the cause of so many mortals dying all of a sudden, nor did he care if Lord Hades or Queen Persephone had anything to do with it.

What he _**did care**_ about though… well…

He let out an uncommonly gentle groan – a distant echo of the near coo-like noise he had made when his brothers had still been babies, nestled in his arms and robes, clutching at him with their small hands.

At the noise Thanatos blinked his golden eyes towards him as if he had just been broken out of one of his twin Hypnos’ spells “I…” the younger god started, his mouth moving slightly but no words leaving.

His already gaunt face seemed even more drawn, his skin downright ashy, lips colourless, his gaze borderline listless – even his float seemed off, he wasn't as high up as he usually was, his feet barely an inch off the ground as if he didn't have the mind or strength for more.

Looking at Thanatos’ obviously exhausted form Charon worried when his brother had last slept. Death wasn't known to sit down and rest often, but he still had to do so every once in a while. When he had still been a child it had always been a struggle to get him to lie down, there had always been protests and a lot of ‘but I still have work to do’ – and now that Thanatos was grown and made his own decisions Charon feared that his brother was neglecting his own health in favour of his duty.

Another few seconds passed in fumbling silence until finally Thanatos seemed to get a hold of his thoughts and voice “I apologize brother, I did not catch what you just said. Could you hold on to the thought for a later time? I really have to get going again.” and, without waiting for a proper reply, he simply vanished again in a flash of green light.

Charon simply stayed where he was, floating a little, both hands gripping the long hilt of his oar – if he could frown he would do so right now. His glowing purple gaze drifted to the huge crowd of shades waiting for him. 

He did a headcount and realized that it were a few more than the day before. And at this point he had a sneaking suspicion that his brother Death would soon no longer be able to reap _**and deliver**_ all of them on time.

Before this sudden increase in shades it had not really mattered that Thanatos was both reaping souls as well as playing psychopomp by bringing them to Charon. After all, Death could teleport and there was no one in the underworld who might be fast enough to collect the souls Thanatos left in his wake. And so it had always just seemed logical that the job of delivering them would fall to Thanatos too – two birds one stone as the saying went.

But by now it was clear that this model wouldn't work for much longer. A thick plume of purple smoke signalled Charon's irritation – trust mortals to breed and die so quickly that not even Death himself could keep up with all of it.

He loosened his right hand from around the hilt of his oar again and thrust it out with more force than usual – an impatient demand. The crowd of shades scrambled to quickly deposit their payment before they folded onto the ferry.

Charon watched the display with a displeased sort of acceptance – at this point it was obvious that he himself would soon need to make adjustments too, since his ferry was becoming too small to stow the masses of shades that wanted a ride. He would soon need a bigger one… which meant he would need to go in search for a decent carpenter and shipbuilder around here so he could commission them for one.

Another puff of smoke – another sign of resigned irritation. He hated spending money… but a good ferry didn't come cheap and he certainly didn't want just any cobbled together mess of a boat either – only the best would do to traverse the rivers of this realm properly. A decent form that cut through the water easily, appropriate adornments, good wood…

Still, before he could get to searching out a shipbuilder for himself he had to deal with the more pressing problem first. And so he floated to his designated spot, feet soon touching the wood of his ferry, his oar dipping into the water – and with a smooth and easy motion he pushed off, setting his course.

It took a while, thanks to the sheer amount of shades wanting to be delivered, but he finally finished his round – ending it in the depths of Tartarus. Yet, instead of turning or maybe setting up shop in one of his usual haunts, he rowed all the way towards the house. When had he last been here? It must have been back when that Olympian god had waltzed into this realm on his quest to deliver a letter to Lord Hades.

He stopped his boat and for a moment his eye traced over the outer walls of the house. He sometimes thought that he should visit more, his mother certainly wouldn't mind seeing her son more often and Hypnos was always delighted by the presence of either of his brothers.

And yet Charon never really felt at home when he stayed in the house – he belonged on the waters of this realm, rowing his ferry and tending to his rivers. He felt more comfortable down in his fathers realm, in misty, dark Erebus, where he was surrounded by powerful darkness and where Styx was always all around him – lapping at the stone of his chambers, always just a few steps away.

And so Charon usually just discarded the sporadic thoughts of visiting again as quickly as they had appeared. This was just no place for him – it never had been.

Finally he floated over, feet soon touching the stone of Tartarus and from there he made his way towards the garden gates, his oar tipped downwards, loosely held in his left hand. He ascended the stairs and had barely taken two steps along the garden path when he was spotted by Queen Persephone.

“Charon.” she greeted and Charon, as always, bowed slightly in respect, tipping his hat towards her in greeting “What brings you here? If you are looking for Nyx she is out right now.”

No, it wasn't mother Nyx he was looking for this time around – though he feared that the conversation he wanted to have would be a lot more frustrating than it had to be without someone there to translate for him.

Still, even with both mother Nyx and Thanatos gone, Charon was rather sure that at the very least Hypnos had to be around – his younger brother so seldomly left the house; it was an unnecessary hassle to him since he was able to influence mortals even from the depths of the earth.

In the end Charon simply shook his head, hoping that the Queen would understand him “Oh, you’re not looking for her then?” and she did, of course she did, shrewd woman that she was. At her question Charon shook his head again, no, he wasn't.

“Are you looking for Thanatos then? He is out currently.” another head shake from Charon “Hypnos?” well yes, he would certainly go looking for him to have a translator – but in the end his brother wasn't whom he had come for either so he gave another head shake. By now a small furrow had appeared between Queen Persephone's eyes “Don’t tell me you want to talk to Hades.”

Charon gave a noise of affirmation at that. He knew it must seem strange, since he usually gave the Lord of the house a wide berth and Lord Hades did the same for him – and so they both went along, doing their respective business, trying not to get into each others ways – and it worked out splendidly for both of them… but Charon really needed an audience right now, before the current situation with the shades would get too out of hand.

“He’s at his desk. Do you want me to bring you to-” Queen Persephone was quick to offer but she trailed off at the end of her sentence when Charon simply held up his hand, declining – instead he simply inclined his head again in gratitude before he walked past the Queen.

She really didn't have to bother with this – her time was better spent pursuing her own pleasures, she did not need to waste it by leading Charon around.

He followed the garden path, taking the one step at the end up and setting foot into the house for real. Several shades were milling about but they quickly moved out of his way, giving him space. He made a little de-tour first, soon stepping into a room padded in pillows and curtains and soft rugs, quilted blankets were strewn everywhere – inviting any possible visitor to simply sit down wherever they wanted and nod off.

Charon stepped over several of the pillows, careful not to accidentally trip – the room really wasn't decorated with people who actually walked with their feet on the ground in mind. He drew close to the enormous bed shoved against the farthest wall and stopped in front of it to reach out his free right hand, bony fingers curling around Hypnos’ shoulder so he could start and shake the other god awake.

“Five more minutes.” Hypnos mumbled sleepily, smacking his lips once before one of his hands appeared from beneath a veritable mountain of blankets to push Charon away.

Charon on his part wasn't intend on letting himself be brushed off this easily, so he shook his brother again, letting out a groan – not that it was any help, since Hypnos had already fallen back asleep again. Again Charon let out a groan, this one a lot less patient – the kind of fond-irritation only an older brother could feel.

Waking Hypnos had always been a near impossible feat – but Charon really didn't have the time nor the patience right now to slowly coax his brother into wakefulness with gentle shakes and low groans. He gave another noise – this one more exhausted – and drew back a little.

He raised the oar in his left hand and slapped it against where Hypnos’ thigh was well protected under his carapace of quilts. He was mindful not to exert too much force – after all he didn't want to truly hurt his brother, only startle him awake.

It had the intended effect as Hypnos jack-knifed upwards a second later “I'm awake! I'm awake!” he said, both hands flying up to hastily shove his sleep-mask up off his eyes and into his hair. His still bleary golden eyes fixed on Charon and recognition was quickly followed by delight.

“Oh Charon!” Hypnos smiled, his voice was chipper as always “Nice of you to visit – usually _**I**_ have to go looking for _**you**_ , not the other way around.” there was no accusation in his words, they were nothing more than a statement of facts. After all, they both knew that Charon did not like to stay at the house and so it normally was Hypnos who searched him out at steady intervals so they could talk to each other.

Charon did not waste time and simply explained what he wanted “Oh, yeah, sure.” Hypnos said easily, floating off the bed and towards him “I will translate for you, no problem.” at that Charon inclined his head in thanks and turned to walk towards his actual destination, stepping over mountains of pillows again, mindful not to get his feet snared by them. 

Hypnos was simply floating behind him, both of his sleep-warm hands resting on Charon's shoulders; it was a familiar sensation indeed. Hypnos had always been a lot more clingy than his twin, and so he tended to unconsciously reach out – he had held onto Charon's shoulders in this way since he had been a child. Charon did not mind so he had never told him to stop.

After traversing a few winding hallways they finally came back around to the main hall – and a quick turn later Charon was bridging the distance to Lord Hades’ writing desk. He stopped at the designated sport – the round relief on the ground – and groaned out a greeting.

Hypnos behind him chirped up a second later in that easy, unbothered way of his “Greetings, Lord Hades.” he translated, talking over Charon's left shoulder. The sudden address made the Lord of the Dead look up from the parchment he had worked on until that very moment.

He let his quill sink a little “Charon.” he gave back – and if he was surprised at Charon's unexpected appearance then he was certainly very good at hiding it; his face looking just as unimpressed and surly as always.

Charon started to talk and behind him Hypnos translated faithfully “He says there are too many mortals dying. Death does not have time enough to reap them all and then deliver them to the steps of this realm as well.”

Better get straight to the point – Lord Hades wasn't someone for long-winded pleasantries; it was one of the few characteristics that Charon could actually appreciate on him. At the words Lord Hades reclined a little, leaning back into his throne in a more comfortable position.

“So you want to tell me that Death himself isn't able to keep up and is overburdened with his work?”

That particular wording started an angry hiss from Charon. No, that wasn't what he was saying _**at all**_. It wasn't that Thanatos was _**overburdened**_ , but instead that he was stretched too thin. He was meant to reap mortals first and foremost. Delivering them to boot might have been no problem until now, but with the ever growing death-rates of mortals it was time to split responsibilities here – leave Death to his reaping and give someone else the duty of collecting said reaped souls.

He growled out a reply. A second of silence passed and then he felt Hypnos’ hands squeeze gently at his shoulders from where he was still floating behind him and holding onto him “You sure you want to word it that way?” his brother asked with a raised eyebrow and Charon gave a sharp nod “Well, if you’re sure.” Hypnos said, the dismissive shrug audible in his voice.

“He says, and I quote here: ‘Thanatos is fulfilling his duties faithfully and unwaveringly and you, as well as everyone else around here, know that full well. So do not dare put false words in my mouth when you should know better.’ ”

Lord Hades’ eyes slitted at that, his right hand clenching angrily around his writing quill before he raised it and slammed it down on the table with a loud ‘thund’.

“You will not address me so brazenly!” he near shouted down the table at where Charon was standing. And, very unimpressed indeed, Charon simply groaned back.

“He says, and I quote again: ‘Then do not spin my words however it pleases you.’ ” Hypnos’ light and unperturbed voice rang out past his left shoulder, answering the angered Lord. It sounded somewhat out of place, the chipper, soft sing-song sounding up right alongside Charon's deep groans and Lord Hades’ angry growls.

For a second it was clear that they had reached a sort of stalemate – Lord Hades glowering at the two brothers standing in front of him and Charon refusing to be cowered by such a blustering, pompous display. If his sisters Strife and Retribution were here right now they would probably laugh at the Lords pitiful attempt at rage.

Charon groaned – he was not in the mood to stand and wait around for Lord Hades to calm down and prompt him to speak again – after all, they all had far better things to do than partake in this silly act here.

“He says that it is due time that the responsibility of reaping souls and the responsibility of then bringing them to the gates of this realm be split. Otherwise he fears that the workings of this house shall soon come to a standstill.”

Lord Hades gave a scoff, seemingly puffing out some of his indignation, his expression morphing from anger to contemplation “Is that really your opinion?” he asked and Charon gave a nod, groaning out a few more words.

“He says that the influx of souls is too great and that Death should not be distracted from his actual duties by being forced to play psychopomp as well.”

Lord Hades gave a low hum “How big did you say that influx of souls is exactly?”

“He says very big indeed. Even he himself will soon be forced to make adjustments to be able to ferry them all properly.”

Another contemplative hum “What is your estimation of the space we have around here? Would you say we need to start expanding again?”

Here Charon actually took a moment, cocking his head in thought before he finally groaned out an answer.

“He says he believes that an expansion will be necessary at some point in the near future but that there is still enough space at this current point in time, so it does not need to be made a priority immediately.”

At that Lord Hades pushed a few papers to the side until he had found the one he had seemingly been looking for. The quill scratched over the paper as he made a note “Only Tartarus and Asphodel I assume?”

Charon groaned in affirmation – after all, Elysium only very rarely needed to be expanded – behind him Hypnos quipped up “He says yes.”

More quill scratching and then “Hypnos you do not fulfil any grand duty in this house yet, you can collect them.”

There was a moment of pause and then Charon felt Hypnos’ hands – still resting sleep-warm on his shoulders – twitch, and if he knew his younger brother then that movement had probably been a sign of annoyance “I am not that fast Lord Hades, nor can I teleport like Thanatos.” Hypnos explained. 

And while Lord Hades was right in that Sleep – at least currently – had no ‘real’ function in the house Hypnos was right as well. The god of Sleep would simply not be able to keep up with his twin, who, after all, was able to simply _**think**_ himself to a different location. So Hypnos getting the role of psychopomp and trying to collect souls would be no help at all.

At that – very valid indeed – protest Lord Hades raised his ruby eyes again, they flickered like Phlegethon’s fire.

Charon moved his left arm, resting the hilt of his oar on the ground before he extended his left arm a little – forming an upside down ‘A’ with his oar, arm and the whole left side of his body. It might look casual to a bystander but both Charon as well as Lord Hades knew better.

Lord Hades let out a bemused sound, his mouth twisting even farther down than it usually was “So you agree with him then?” he prompted and Charon fixed his burning will-o’-wisp of an eye on the other god before he nodded once, never taking his gaze off of him.

“Of course!” it was an angry scoff. A moment passed in silence before Lord Hades spoke up again “You can not coddle your brothers forever.” he said, his voice acidic – meant to pierce.

Charon let out a hiss that was both indignant as well as disbelieving, a larger-than-usual cloud of smoke accompanying the noise. 

He wasn't ‘coddling’ his two brothers with this – he was thinking of what would be best for the house! 

If Thanatos was too caught up whisking souls to Charon then there would soon be an entire bunch of mortals left walking around up-world even though they should long have died. Countless people still _**doing things**_ even if they should already be _**dead**_ might even one day influence his sisters, their weave might become tangled and bend out of proportion – unreliable and skewered. And Hypnos, even if he technically _**had**_ nothing better to do, would simply not be quick enough to collect all the reaped shades, that was just a fact, there was no arguing with that.

All of it had nothing to do with ‘coddling’ but with _**efficiency**_. And Charon started to speak, trying to explain his reasoning, but Lord Hades dismissively cut him off with a raise of his hand – unwilling to hear more “So who else would you nominate for the position then?” he asked him, needlessly needling, his voice holding barely concealed ire.

Charon let out a wrath-filled groan, and in response he felt Hypnos’ squeeze his shoulders reassuringly – and, while that _**did**_ soothe some of his anger, the Lord had clearly overstepped here. Accusing Charon of having some… some _**personal agenda**_ , when all he ever wanted was for the house to flourish and prosper – something Lord Hades should be _**thankful**_ for since he was stuck down here now; more or less cast out by his own siblings.

A thick, vicious plume of smoke rose as Charon nearly growled out an answer.

“Oh wow.” Hypnos breathed out in reaction to what Charon had just said – he sounded both surprised as well as strangely intrigued. A second passed and then he translated “He says, and I quote verbatim here: ‘You installed yourself here as regent and administrator, so do not ask me to fulfil your duties for you.’ ”

For a second all was calm before the storm finally hit “How dare you!” Lord Hades shouted, slamming his fist against the tabletop again – rattling several stacks of papers.

Charon met the Lord’s anger easily, stamping the hilt of his oar into the stone ground once and Styx, ever faithful, responded to his wrath near eagerly. The house seemed to shake as she roared and slammed into the outer walls, whipping herself into a bloody froth. 

Even at the far end of the hall, where the pool usually lay calm, she started to spill upwards, red water sloshing like clawing fingers, as if she tried to reach forward, tried to reach for the desk all the way across, tried to grab and _**crush**_.

At the end of the day this wasn't Lord Hades’ realm – not truly. He was but a foreigner and held no power over the primordial forces here. He wasn't like Charon who was born here and bound to this realm, who was inextricably linked with the darkness and the rivers which surrounded and embraced all.

“What in heavens name is going on here!” the near-yell coming from Charon's right caught everyone off-guard and all three gods whipped their heads around to see Queen Persephone standing at the threshold of the hall leading from the garden to the main room.

Her fists rested against her hips and her emerald eyes seemed to burn like a forest fire “Charon! Cease this upheaval at once.” she commanded, voice booking no argument and Charon bent to her will near immediately, inclining his head – he tapped his oar a few times into the ground, a soothing rhythm, until, finally, Styx was calmed again, receding back into her borders… even if her flow was still a little agitated, a little harsher than normal.

“Now. Does someone want to explain to me what all this is about?” the Queen asked as she quickly stepped towards Lord Hades’ desk. She came to a stop to the right of it, her arms crossed in front of her chest – her hair was slightly ruffled and she was smeared with dirt and yet she looked every bit the Queen she was.

Her eyes landed on Hypnos, probably betting on his loose tongue and easy-going nature “You, Hypnos.”

Charon felt his brothers hands unconsciously rubbing along his shoulders “Ah well,” Hypnos started “you see, Charon here is concerned that Thanatos doesn't have enough time to reap mortals and then also bring their souls here, so he proposed that someone else should get the duty of psychopomp and take the shades to the temple.”

Queen Persephone pursed her lips at that “Yes, I have noticed that Thanatos seems a little harried as of late.” a furrow appeared between her brows as she turned her head to look up at where her husband sat “It sounds like a reasonable enough request, so what is the problem here?”

“Lord Hades thinks Charon is only proposing it because he is coddling Thanatos and I and then cut the conversation off and didn't let Charon explain, so Charon here got really angry because of his assumptions.” Hypnos answered in that quip-like way of his, displaying a surprising lack of self-preservation by calling the Lord of the house out like that.

The Queen just shook her head at that “Really?” she asked, sounding exasperated “There is so much ego around here it’s hard to bear sometimes.” she scoffed, her emerald eyes landing pointedly on Lord Hades – who turned his gaze away from here – before they trailed to land equally pointedly on Charon – who at the very least had the good grace to slightly bow in concession. After all, the Queen was not necessarily wrong in her observation.

She gave a huff and finally unfolded her arms from around her chest “Charon usually doesn't visit so I don't think he would have come all this way if he didn't think it a real problem. I believe we really should look into the issue – maybe together we can come up with a solution.” she said, raising her eyes back towards her husband.

Lord Hades let out a tense breath of air and then nodded “Yes, I think that is a good idea indeed.”

“Fine.” the Queen said, sounding pleased “I will wash up quickly and then we can set to work.” and with that she turned around and walked towards her chambers.

All was quiet after she had left, time seemed nearly frozen. The spell was broken when Lord Hades let out an exhausted sounding sigh “I will see what I can do about the issue.” he promised, free left hand raising to rub over his face once before he let it sink again to wave Charon away “Now go. I have seen quite enough of you for the foreseeable future.”

At the very least that was something they could both agree on, Charon thought. He let out a large, irritated puff of smoke before he, rather resentfully, inclined his head – behind him he felt how Hypnos let go of his shoulders, though it seemed a little reluctant, as if he did not want Charon to leave again quite so soon.

Charon aimed a reassuring, soft groan at his brother before he fully turned around to leave. He had never enjoyed staying at the house for too long, but since Lord Hades had moved in he disliked it even more. And if the Lord said he didn't want to see Charon again any time soon then who was Charon to deny him?

Good riddance!, he thought spitefully as he rowed away from the house, set on never stepping foot in it again.


	8. Professional Associates

“I can not believe you talked to Lord Hades about this without even consulting me first.” Thanatos’ voice was a cross between insulted and betrayed.

“ _Yes, I did not consult you first but only because I already knew that you would refuse_.” Charon groaned out in answer.

They were both standing – well, Charon was standing while Thanatos was floating in the air as was usual for him, curled slightly towards him – in the entrance way of the Temple Styx. On the far end of the hall Cerberus was throwing them a look but the faithful guard dog soon lost interest again and returned to staring dutifully down the hallway where the stairs to the underworld were.

Thanatos’ mouth curled slightly “Do you have so little faith in my abilities then?” he asked, one of his hands jerking in an impatient motion – knocking a few strands of his long hair loose; the silver tresses slid over his shoulder towards his front, now resting on his chest.

Now that truly was a low blow and they both knew it. Charon for his part puffed out a viciously thick cloud of smoke – wordlessly making his displeasure at his brothers words known and Thanatos easily picked up on it “What is it then?” he demanded.

Another slow drift of smoke and then Charon answered “ _There are too many souls who need a guide to this place by now. At this point you do not have time anymore to split your attentions between both reaping as well as delivering them_.”

Charon felt like he was explaining this for the millionth time by now, over and over – the only one who hadn't asked him for some form of explanation or justification had been mother Nyx. His mother had simply trusted his intentions and intuition – his judgment on the current state of things.

Thanatos crossed his arms in front if his chest at that “Don’t you think that I can decide for myself what I have time for and what not?” his voice was a downright challenge – a gauntlet thrown to the ground.

Silence.

Truthfully? No. Charon did, in fact, _**not**_ think that his brother could decide for himself in that particular instance. Thanatos was hard-working and diligent to a fault and seldomly knew when he had reached his limits – instead choosing to simply push _**harder**_ , instead of resting.

Even after all these years it still seemed as if he was desperate to prove himself, to show how mature and capable he was – that the burden of bringing death was not misplaced on his shoulders. 

Charon knew that his brother would never ask for help on his own accord – fearing it would make him look incompetent or weak… and so worrying and asking _**for**_ him had always fallen to either Hypnos or Charon himself. That had been how it worked since the day of Thanatos’ birth.

Charon was quiet for a long moment – not sure how to word all of that in a sufficiently delicate manner so as not to accidentally insult his brother further – but a thinner-than-usual trail of smoke still escaped the right edge of his mouth – betraying his hesitation.

… And of course Thanatos immediately picked up on it.

“Oh I see how it is then.” Thanatos said, having clearly interpreted his silence and the near see-through-thin stream of smoke. His golden eyes were slitted and his jaw was set – he was clearly feeling slighted, his gaunt face pulling into a downright reproachful expression.

Charon let out out an exasperated noise – equal parts fond and utterly annoyed – smoke billowing from his mouth. Thanatos always took everything too personal, as if it was an attack specifically and maliciously aimed directly at him.

It was not that Charon did not understand his younger brother’s accusations and his anger. He had gone and gotten Lord Hades involved without even trying to talk with him beforehand. He had taken the decision out of Thanatos’ hands.

And he was sorry for that. He truly was. He did not like going behind his brother’s back and he wouldn't have done so in the first place if he hadn't thought it absolutely necessary. If he hadn't been so absolutely sure that a discussion with Thanatos about his work would have gone the same way it had _**always**_ gone in the past – Thanatos just outright refusing and then, before Charon could have made any more arguments, his younger brother would have simply teleported away. 

And so Charon regretted ignoring his brother’s wishes while, at the same time, he would be lying if he said he regretted the final outcome of all of this.

It was a tangled situation; Charon's fondness for his brother and his respect for Thanatos’ authority and autonomy warring with his duties. It had been lose/lose from the start, Charon knew – he had had to chose between the realm and his brother and there had been no way to win this.

In the end Charon let out a tired noise before he raised his hand, his pointer and middle-finger catching Thanatos’ wayward silver strand between them to push it back from his chest and into its rightful place again – it was a familiar motion, meant as an apology on Charon's part as much as a try at soothing Thanatos’ flaring temper.

A loud slap suddenly echoed around the spacious temple – making even Cerberus whip two of his heads around to see what was going on. A momentary shudder went through the water of the rivers flowing through the chamber.

Thanatos’ float had a slight bob to it by now, up and down – making it clear that he was angry – his jaw jumped and he fixed Charon with a stare of molten gold “Cease that! I'm not a child any longer!” he said, his usually low and calm voice rising, harbouring a slight shake.

Charon for his part could do nothing but stare at his brother mutely, his right hand still raised in the air – fingers actually smarting a little where Thanatos had slapped them away with his own hand. If he could blink he probably would do so in utter befuddlement right about now.

It took a second for him to process what had just happened and when he finally had a grasp on the situation the waters behind him shuddered again – rage and hurt lapping at the edges of the temple. He let out a thick plume of smoke, his glowing will-o’-wisp of an eye still fixed on his younger brother, his always slightly wheezing breaths suddenly seeming deafeningly loud in the silence.

He curled the fingers of his still raised hand inwards – a less gentle and less calm mirror of his mother’s usual pose. Another second passed and he let it sink down, wrapping it around the hilt of his oar where its counterpart had been resting all this time already.

Another thick plume of smoke and finally he inclined his head a little, bowing the tiniest bit at the hip – conceding to his brother’s will mutely and without a fight. If that was Thanatos’ final word then so be it.

He saw how Thanatos’ jaw jumped again, his already thin lips flattening further, a strange flicker passing over his golden gaze as he watched his older brother bowing to him with the kind of stubborn, defiance-fuelled aversion he usually only showed Lord Hades.

For a moment it seemed as if Thanatos wanted to say something, his expression torn, his mouth hanging slightly open but, in the end, he only vanished again with a noisy ‘pop’ and a flash of sickly green light.

Two heavy heartbeat of utter silence and then… 

“Looks like there is a lot of trouble in paradise, well, underworld paradise at any rate. Bit of a bad time for me to drop in, eh? Family troubles I assume? He called you ‘brother’ last time I was around, remembered that, you see. I know how it is with family sometimes, is why I mostly stick to myself, less trouble.”

For a second Charon didn't react but then he turned his head, his burning will-o’-wisp of an eye fixing on the god that had seemingly just appeared – a thick, angry line of smoke rising from his mouth along with a hissing growl. A warning. 

Around the temple the already agitated waters of the rivers quivered violently, threatening to slosh over the edges any moment now, and Hermes was quick to raise two hands in – seemingly amused – surrender “Don’t want to talk about it. That's fine too. Probably too personal a topic anyway so forget I asked.” he conceded easily.

Charon took a slow, slightly wheezing – always slightly wheezing – breathe, trying to find some calm again. This really wasn't a time where he was in the mood to deal with someone else, but work was work. Another breath and finally the rivers behind him calmed too.

Charon drifted up into a slight float, feet leaving the ground. He stretched out his right hand, palm upwards and open – waiting.

“Oh no, don't have any letters this time around, think the rest of the family up on the mountain might have finally realized that writing isn't all that appreciated around here, got the message so to speak.” Hermes quipped, flying closer to Charon, boldly ignoring that the chthonic god currently wasn't in the best of moods – something that usually no one dared to do, with the exception of Charon's close family.

Charon wasn't too sure if he should be impressed by Hermes’ actions or not.

“But!” Hermes raised his pointer finger in the air, as if he tried to pre-emptively cut off anything Charon might say – which was more than just a little redundant in Charon's opinion, since the other god couldn't understand him either way and so he saw no real point in trying to talk to him directly anyway.

“I’ve actually gotten some new duties, a promotion so to speak. See, remember that one letter there that you gave me not too long ago?” at that Charon simply nodded, of course he remembered “Well, good then, because that was actually a question, well, actually worded more like a demand but eh, who would keep track of something like that? Anyway, was a demand to send someone speedy to do all the psychopomp work, get the shades down here and all, and everyone was kind of in agreement that the speediest around is I myself and I guess what I want to say is: Here I am boss.”

Hermes indicated himself, doing a slight bow in mid-air, his wings were fluttering fast, nearly buzzing in the air “Simply wanted to give you a heads-up, so you know what’s up and don't think I'm trying something weird when I appear with that first bunch of souls later. Already got my instructions and fitted everything into my schedule so everything should go really smooth and, more importantly, really quickly from here on out.” 

There was a beat of silent stillness and then Hermes – seemingly unable to stay still for a moment longer – flapped all six of his wings and drew a near playful circle around Charon's stationary, floating form, he was smiling when he spoke “I know we got off to a bit of a rough start, wrong foot you know, lot of misunderstandings and all.” the god of swiftness said as he came to a stop in front of Charon again.

“But that doesn't mean we have to continue stumbling, still have time to course correct, don't think it would be a lot of fun working together if we hated each others guts; don't you agree? So, how about we start over all fresh and nice. No pre-conceptions, no prejudice. Would be best for everyone involved, don't you think?” Hermes thrust out his right hand at that “Hermes, son of Zeus, god of swiftness and so on and so forth. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

He was still smiling at Charon – a seemingly genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his brown eyes – waiting for a reaction.

Charon on his part raised his eye towards the other god’s face wearily – he couldn't really detect any kind of deceit in his expression though – so he dropped his gaze a little, fixing his eye on the still proffered hand, hanging in the air between them.

Well, it was true, they had indeed started off on the wrong foot – Hermes trespassing, accidentally attacking Charon and inadvertently causing a whole lot of trouble and Charon with his long-standing, and rather reasonable, dislike of Olympians – after all, Charon doubted he would ever get the old image of them all blood-smeared and jeering out of his mind again. Still, it was probably a little unfair projecting that on Hermes, seeing as the other god had likely not even been born back then. 

So leaving the past in the past and going purely by the impression of their first meeting… well, Hermes had been full of pleasant surprises. First he had been a lot more open-minded when it came to chthonic gods than his relatives; he hadn't been scoffing nor dismissive nor had he acted like a spoiled princeling looking at a tiny insect. In fact, he had treated and addressed both mother Nyx as well as Charon in the same way that he had addressed his uncle Lord Hades.

His expression back then had been open, his eyes keen and at the very end he had sounded nearly intrigued. He also hadn't seemed even the slightest bit perturbed or put off by Charon's appearance – even right now he wasn't afraid to close the distance between them, to offer a hand, to get right in Charon's space without fear or disgust.

Over all he also seemed to be more easy-going and less annoying and vindictive than the rest of his family. Of course, that wasn't really any kind of true reassurance – the mood of most gods often changed like the breeze, one moment blowing left, the next moment blowing right. So who could really, with any type of certainty say what time would bring? Only his sister Fates – and they wouldn't tell.

And yet, what Hermes said was reasonable and level-headed. If they had to work together from now on out – communicating every day to do their work properly – then they had to find some common ground. They couldn't just distrust each other without cause or it would make work an unpleasant, gruelling slog.

And so Charon made his mind up – Hermes, at least, seemed more decent than most, so Charon was willing to give this a shot.

He sank down from his float, feet touching the ground again before he took a few steps towards the god flying in front of him. He loosened his hold on his oar on the way – letting it float behind him – and then stretched out both his hands. His right one gripping the offered hand in a firm but careful hold while his left hand cupped around the back – covering Hermes’ knuckles.

Charon let out a low agreeable groan, inclining his head slightly. A second passed – one in which Charon half expected the other god to jerk his hand back in disgust – but then, surprisingly, Hermes only let out a genuine-sounding chuckle “Guess that makes us professional associates then, no?” he jabbed in an easy-going, non-offensive manner. 

He squeezed his hand slightly around Charon's – again, surprising – before he drew it back. He was grinning, as if he was amused by his own wording just then – and Charon, in a show of good-will, decided to humour him and nodded his head again, giving another agreeable groan.

Hermes chuckled at that “Well, guess that settles it all then. Would like to talk a bit more but got to sprint, still have a few more things to do before I'm going to bring the newest batch of shades here – going to return at the appropriate time though, so no worries, am never late, you know, so you can count on me. Until then, my good professional associate.”

And with a final wave of his hand he was gone again, zipping away in a flash of orange-gold, leaving Charon behind to wonder in silence about everything that had happened that day.


	9. Making Up

Work in the underworld wasn't what one might call ‘exciting’. It was a routinised set of motions that everyone went through every day – again and again. And since they were underneath the earth time was more an abstract than an actual thing – something that other gods, who could actually see Helios’ chariot, were bothered by but which did not really influenced their chthonic counterparts in any way.

Of all of them only a few could actually and reliably keep track of the day and night circles. Mother Nyx for example, who, seeing as she was Night Incarnate, knew quite well when it was night and when not.

Now Charon himself could guess at the time pretty accurately too since he knew how to read the weak light-reflections shimmering over the waters of the underworld rivers – the glimmer was stronger or weaker depending on the time of day or night, which made being punctual a lot easier, since Charon absolutely abhorred to be late.

The oar made a soft, dull noise as Charon used it to halt his ferry now that he had reached his destination – punctual as always.

A bunch of shades was already waiting at the designated spot while Hermes was fluttering around the chamber of the temple, obviously waiting and incapable of being still for too long. Charon watched the other god for a beat before he drew his oar out of the water so he could hit the gold adorned edge of it against the bell at the front of his ferry.

The small bell let out a soft chime – heralding his arrival like it always did. The soft, clean note drew Hermes attention immediately. The god of swiftness turned from where he had looked at the mosaic decorating the wall.

He fluttered closer with a smile on his face – a few of the shades tried to reach for the messenger but Hermes just weaved around their hands effortlessly, tutting a little at the behaviour of the shades as he went.

The first couple of days of their new arrangement had been rather stiff and downright choreographed. But by now they were slowly but surely going of script more and more often – not necessarily because of any effort on Charon's part but simply because it just so happened that Hermes seemingly was absolutely incapable of staying silent. 

And so, not even a full week after they had started working together, the god of swiftness had begun to talk to Charon about everything and anything that came to his mind. Truthfully, it had surprised Charon a little at first. Hermes always carried a full satchel and didn't seem too keen on staying in one spot for too long, and yet, for some bizarre reason he was fine with spending multiple minutes a day just blabbering at Charon – since the Stygian Boatman couldn't really respond… well, at least not in a manner that Hermes would actually understand.

Most of what he said wasn't even of any real interest to Charon – it were dramatic, slightly sarcastic retellings of squabbles on Olympus, or explanations of what was currently happening to the mortals or sometimes even nothing more than a complaint about the wind-speed outside and how it had, literally, ruffled some of Hermes’ feathers. 

The unceasing, somewhat mindless yet obviously very eager and excited blabber distantly reminded Charon of when Hypnos came to visit him. His younger brother didn't have a lot of people he could talk to at the house and so he usually just info-dumped on Charon for a couple of hours whenever they met-up – happy to have someone who was willing to listen to him.

Charon remembered that Hermes had once mentioned that he liked to stick to himself – so Charon had the sneaking suspicion that Hermes, just like Hypnos, was simply glad to have finally found someone he could talk to without being immediately told off. Even if it was just for a few minutes each day.

Maybe it also helped that Charon wasn't part of Hermes’ direct family and that Hermes therefore didn't really have to watch his words when he talked about his relatives and their antics. Since there was no danger of Charon running off and tattling to the Olympians and causing another family feud.

Well, whatever might or mightn't be the reason for Hermes’ surprising ease around Charon it didn't really matter. And all in all Charon found he didn't mind the other gods unexpectedly friendly disposition – if anything he was glad for it since it meant work was going very smoothly.

Also, if he was being truthful, he wasn't opposed to having a free and steady source of gossip and news – a proper tether to everything that happened outside of the underworld. After all it was important to stay informed about bigger developments – wars and famines and natural disasters could all severely influence the inner workings of the underworld. 

Beside, one never knew when seemingly nonsensical information could pay off. Charon, after all, was immortal and very patient indeed, and he knew that everything, at some point or another, could unexpectedly come in use.

Before Hermes Charon had sometimes gotten updates from Thanatos who could traverse between all plains if he so choose – he wasn't bound to the flow of the rivers like Charon after all.

… Of course that wasn't an option anymore. Thanatos didn't need to drop his collected shades off at the temple anymore and so Charon hadn't seen his younger brother since their altercation – and at this point it was rather obvious that Thanatos was avoiding him. Charon had briefly played with the thought of going in search for his younger brother but he had quickly discarded that idea again. After all he was very aware of the fact that if Thanatos didn't want to be found then he wouldn't be. 

At this point Charon assumed their relationship would simply continue to deteriorate until it became irreparable. It had happened with most of his other siblings before too…

And yet, with Thanatos it was different – the thought of just drifting apart was painful. Charon had never cared much about any broken bridges with his other siblings, in fact, with most of them he was happy that he never had to lay his eye on them again… but he had _**raised**_ Thanatos, had rocked him to sleep, had seen him grow up…

He would be a liar if he said that what had happened between them hadn't left a lingering, bitter taste in his mouth – a strange mixture of longing, regret and, to some extend, spite as well.

He hadn't done any of what he had done out of malice or to shine a spotlight on Thanatos, but instead for the good of the entire underworld – he felt he had done the right thing by requesting that someone else get the duty of psychopomp… and yet he also understood why Thanatos might feel betrayed, what with Charon acting behind his back like that, without even telling him of his plans before hand.

…

A thick plume of glittering smoke rose up into the air – betraying a kind of resigned acceptance. Well, it was what it was, Charon thought.

“Something wrong there?” Hermes suddenly asked and Charon, not for the first time, thought that the other god was a little too perceptive for his own good. Still, he just let out a low groan and shook his head in answer.

It was obvious that Hermes did not buy it and Charon felt his brown eyes linger on him for the entire duration of his visit.

#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+

“Oh! Nice new ferry there my dear professional associate.” Hermes said one day, flying closer, passing by Charon to get a better look at the new boat “Not that there was anything wrong with the old one, was very cosy, but I guess that was the problem, a bit too cosy for all the shades, no? This one seems a lot bigger, broader and longer.” he said as he flew a circle over the boat, looking at it from all possible angles.

“Oh, it has engravings too, very fancy, and gold trim here… and here too.” at those observations the god let out an impressed sounding whistle “You certainly have style.” his brown eyes lifted from the ferry to land on Charon “Must have cost you a fair amount of coin, no?”

Charon let out a thick plume of smoke and simply inclined his head – oh, Hermes didn't know the half of it. His new ferry had cost a small fortune – but it was also the best that money could buy and it customized to a t as well.

“Still, not really a surprise though, you obviously needed more space what with the amounts of shades I'm bringing down here every day, still, guess it only makes sense, the increase of souls I mean, what with Demeter being full of righteous fury and all.” Hermes blabbered easily as he drew a final round over the ferry before he came back around, stopping in front of Charon again.

At that last part Charon actually raised his head a little – still, he let his gaze drift away from Hermes again barely a second later. He was intrigued by what the other god had mentioned, he wouldn't lie, but he also didn't want to seem too curious or eager either.

And yet, there was a little stutter in his stream of smoke – just a small one, just a tiny hole in the otherwise steady curtain that always billowed from his mouth… and that was already enough.

“Oh yeah, you probably don't know too much about that.” Hermes said, having picked up on the falter of smoke with a kind of near uncanny attentiveness “I mean, she can only influence the mortal realm, so no hint of snow or ice in the underworld, so how should any of you know?”

Hermes wings were beating quickly as he drew a restless yet obviously playful circle around Charon's still form “It’s a whole mess up on Olympus right now, real drama you see, Kore disappeared not too long ago, she’s Demeter’s daughter in case you don't know, half-goddess, had a mortal father, fellow’s already long dead by now though. Never seemed too happy up on the mountain top the poor girl, but it was non of my business, you see, I make a rule of staying out of family troubles, don't want to be caught up in them if I can help it.”

One circle, two circles, three circles, rapid-fire wing beats “Anyway, already said she disappeared not too long ago and now Demeter has got it in her head that the mortals might have taken her, so now she tries to freeze and starve them out with a never ending winter.” here he shrugged as if all of it didn't concern him “Guess there is no fury like a mother scorned, no?”

He finally stopped his circling, drawing back a little to give Charon a bit more space than he had until now. He fixed his brown eyes on him, there was a sharp glint visible in them as he continued “Personally don't think the mortals kidnapped her, think she probably had enough of the whole bluster and simply ran away, had a bit of a temper that one, not unlike Artemis you see, still, not my place to give opinions or tell Demeter what to do or not. As I said, usually try very hard to stay out of the whole drama, just better for everyone involved and especially better for me, which is most important.”

As the last shade finally dropped its obol into Charon's hand and stepped onto the ferry Hermes made a slight jerking motion in mid-air as if he wasn't quite sure if he wanted to leave immediately or stay a little longer.

He had begun to linger, Charon had noticed. Before, Hermes had only talked a few minutes before he had been off again, but by now he remained for the whole time it took for the shades to pay their due – and, going by his indecisive flutter, he was seemingly contemplated staying even longer right now.

Finally the god of swiftness seemed to make up his mind “Anyway, now you’re caught all up, don't have to wonder about the strange influx of shades anymore. Would really love to continue to chat but, as you know, I got a lot of things to do so I will be off. See you tomorrow.” and with a quick wave Hermes was gone again.

Charon for his part was left staring after the other god, mulling the new information over. A goddess that just vanished into thin air? Now that was certainly an intriguing bit of information. Very intriguing indeed. A small mystery to think about for when he traversed the rivers.

#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+

Hermes was circling around him playfully again – it had become a strange habit of his by now. Charon would be lying if he said he didn't find that rather peculiar. Mostly everyone, with the exception of his close family and maybe Queen Persephone too, tried to stay as far away from him as possible.

Others did not like his appearance – his nearly skull-like, tar black face, his towering height, his one moving and glowing eye, his wheezing breaths… but Hermes didn't seem to mind any of it. He bridged the distance between them as if it was nothing to him, as if he didn't even notice how strange Charon looked compared to other gods.

Hermes was smiling and joking and talking despite the fact that Charon couldn't really answer in a manner understandable to him… but maybe that wasn't quite true anymore at this point. Hermes had keen eyes, observing Charon's smoke and his body language – paying more attention to him than anyone had in centuries. Which was… weird…

He had even begun to sometimes cajole Charon into responding only to then try and guess at what he was saying – as if he was honestly trying to learn to understand him… which was already more effort than even most of his own sibling had put in.

It was all very strange to say the least and Charon didn't quite know what he should think of such behaviour. A part of him wanted to be distrustful – suspecting that maybe Hermes was trying to play some trick here – but another, somewhat bigger part of him, honestly doubted that.

What would Hermes gain by putting in so much effort just to learn a ‘language’ that would be useless for communicating with anyone else except Charon? It seemed like a right waste of time – and Hermes was all about not wasting time.

Finally the last coin landed in Charon's open right palm and with it that the last shade was stepping past him to hop onto his ferry. Charon flicked his robe out of the way then, reaching for his coin pouch, untying the string to put the newest coin in. He tied the bag back to his hip before he raised his head again, glowing eye fixing on Hermes, who had by now stopped its circling and was instead flying in front of him in mid-air.

He looked as if he was waiting on Charon – which, again, strange.

Charon threw a look at him and Hermes returned it with a wide, nearly smug grin “Got a bit more to deliver today, beside those graby shades I mean, you see, actually have a message for you this time around.” Hermes sing-songed in that way of his – the sound of it was slowly but surely becoming worryingly familiar to Charon.

Another letter? After so much time? Truthfully, Charon had thought Olympus had finally given up by now – since Lord Hades had made a habit of answering exactly none of the letters Charon had delivered to the house since his arrival in the underworld.

If he could roll his eye he might have done so but instead he simply let out a somewhat annoyed groan and stretched out his free hand to receive the letter.

At that Hermes’ grin only grew wider, splitting his face “Oh no. It’s a message for you and only you.”

Charon stilled at that, his hand sinking down again to curl around his oar in a mirror of his other hand. If he could have frowned he would have. He let out a low groan – half doubtful, half confused – and raised his eye to give the other god opposite of him a blank stare.

“Not joking or anything.” Hermes reassured – having correctly guess what the groaning had meant – before he raised two hands in a needless display of surrender “Honest message just for you, no letter or paper though, just words, but don't worry, am the best at delivering spoken messages too, never messed one of those up, ever, no matter how long they were.” here his grin took on a prideful and very self-assured edge “Isn’t a long one though, in fact, it’s a very short one.”

He drew a little closer to Charon then – showing again that he seemingly didn't mind the chthonic god’s proximity at all “Okay, ready?” he asked – quite unnecessarily – because he was already continuing before Charon even had a chance to respond “Good, here goes: ‘ _I want to speak with you once I return. Don’t worry about the place, I will find you._ ’ That's it, didn't give me anything more, just vanished again, but in case you are confused, it was Thanatos; met him earlier when I was collecting shades, seemed very frowny, more so than usual I mean.”

Charon stared for a moment, smoke billowing from his mouth in the way it was wont to do – but then the steady string of glittering purple seemed to stutter, cutting off here or there before it resumed again, steady once more. For a moment the waters around the temple stilled as well, seemingly nearly frozen in time as he lowered his head slightly, wide brim of his hat shadowing his face.

Thanatos and he… they hadn't seen each other in so long now… So what could his younger brother possibly suddenly want of him? Charon had thought they had said everything to each other the last time they had met – maybe indirectly, wordlessly, only using gestures… a slap to his hand from Thanatos and a stiff near spiteful bow from Charon in answer.

…

“Hey.” Hermes suddenly cut through his roiling thoughts, his voice softer than before, sounding warmer – genuine. He had flown a little closer still and was looking up at Charon now, his head tilted slightly to catch Charon's gaze despite the brim of his hat “I don't really know what’s going on between you and your brother but whatever it is I hope you two can resolve it. Wasn’t lying when I said I know how it is, family fighting and all that. Can be really uncomfortable and unpleasant sometimes, gets really ugly on Olympus sometimes, already told you it’s why I'm never really staying there. So, guess all I'm trying to say here is: good luck. You know?”

Charon gave a thoughtful noise at that, a veil of smoke raising from his mouth – he didn't know why Hermes seemed so interested in what would or wouldn't happen between Thanatos and he, but his words sounded genuine, his expression nearly guileless, his dark brown eyes looking up at Charon warmly.

It appeared as if he truly cared…

And, try as he might, Charon couldn't find a possible ulterior motive here either, no possible trick the other god might have wanted to pull with this and so – in the end – Charon simply inclined his head mutely. And, for whatever reason, his reaction actually made Hermes smile.

The god of swiftness gave a nod and then fluttered upwards and back again – re-establishing at least some distance between them “Well, am off then, still got things to do, as always. See you around.” and with that and a quick wave he was gone again, leaving Charon to deal with the shades he had brought.

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“You seem a lot less tense today. Talk with your brother yesterday went well I take it?” Hermes asked, sounding genuinely interest. He was flying lazy circles around Charon's stationary, floating form again. Maybe it was Charon's current good mood but at this point he had to admit that he actually found Hermes’ circling somewhat endearing.

For a few moments he was quiet as he mulled the other god’s question over. Around them the shades were trying to both put their obol in Charon's outstretched hand as well as dodge Hermes whenever his near playful circling drew too close to one of them.

Well, Charon assumed his talk with his brother had indeed gone well. Yesterday he had just been busy stowing away his wares again – ready to move his shop from Elysium to Asphodel – when Thanatos had appeared beside him.

At first his brother had simply floated at his side silently but Charon had patiently waited for him to get his bearings – talking about feelings, especially his own, had always been Thanatos’ weak point and, knowing that only too well, Charon hadn't pushed.

It had taken them both a while to actually communicate to the other what they wanted. Charon on his part had explained his reasoning and his actions, though he had also expressed his regret for going behind his brother back.

Thanatos had accepted his apology after a few tense moments of silence and then had offered one of his own for his impatient and harsh words, which Charon had accepted as well – even if it had been a little clumsily worded; though that had been more amusing than anything else to the Stygian Boatman.

After they had said what they wanted to say Charon had thought that that would have been the end of it but – as he was just about to get back to stowing his wares – Thanatos had actually surprised him by floating closer, his already thin lips pressed tightly together as he had bowed his head slightly… a reluctant offer as well as a request for everything to return to how it had been before.

And, after a few seconds, Charon had answered the question by raising his right hand and stroking gently through Thanatos’ long tresses. And from there, everything had been more or less alright again.

Resurfacing from the memory, Charon noted that, despite his rather long silence, Hermes was still waiting for an answer – uncommonly patient – so he simply inclined his head mutely in affirmation, which made the other god smile broadly.

“Good, good. Nice to see at least one family being able to deal with their problems appropriately and in an actual timely manner – not taking a century to say sorry.” Hermes said nodding, his words were a very strange mixture between sarcasm, wistfulness and deeply buried anger. 

He suddenly stopped his circling, smile falling off his face as his gaze sank until he was looking down at the ground, his brown eyes staring fixedly, his mouth curling slightly downwards… it was a very strange image, Charon thought, one that didn't seem quite right. That expression really didn't suit the other god.

Charon didn't really think in that moment, he simply moved. He let go of his oar, feet touching the ground again before he stepped forwards – the shades parting for him like waves of water. 

He drew to a stop when he was barely a step away from Hermes’ flying form and raised up his right hand in a familiar motion that he usually only reserved for Thanatos or Hypnos. His fingers gently dipped into black hair; mindful of his own rings – so they wouldn't accidentally snare and pull at one strand or another – and careful not to either knock the golden wreath resting there askew or to bump into either of the two wings sprouting from the other gods scalp.

Hermes’ head jerked up as he felt Charon's gentle touch. He blinked his eyes once in something that looked like absolute confusion – a second blink and realization settled onto his expression “That what you tried to do to Thanatos that one time, before he slapped you, right?”

At that question Charon simply inclined his head mutely in answer, his hand never stopping its petting motion.

There was a beat of silence and then Hermes spoke up again “Thanks, I really appreciate what you’re trying to do here.”

At that Charon cocked his head slightly and let out a soft groan, fingers still caressing through thick black hair. He didn't quite know how long they remained that way but at some point the god of swiftness became restless.

Charon took it as his cue to pull his hand back and Hermes’ wings flapped a few times, putting some distance between both of them again “Well, already held you up long enough here.” the god of swiftness said, sounding a little embarrassed. He cleared his throat before he continued “And I still got some work waiting for me too, so, until next time I guess.”

As Hermes gave his typical good-bye wave Charon raised his right hand a little and, for the first time, tipped his hat at the other god – giving his own good-bye. He managed to catch the edges of a grin on Hermes’ face before the other god vanished in a golden-orange trail – off to do whatever else he still needed to do.

In the temple a few puffs of glittering purple smoke rose towards the high ceiling – betraying Charon's chuckling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting to go a bit more broad-strokes - from now on some chapters will more or less be a series of snippets, just like this one here.


	10. A Little Chit-Chat

“Aphrodite was batting her eyelashes again, got a rather handsome fellow to fall in love with her, of course caused a huge war again, since Ares really doesn't like other people trying to woo his wife. Always the same thing between those two, really. Obviously Aphrodite can’t just tell him she feels a little lonely when he's gone so often, no, has to start the whole jealousy-spiel to get his attention again. Honestly? Lost count of how many times they have been through all that at this point, think that maybe by now they both actually enjoy it, it’s like their own weird courting ritual.” Hermes said in that rapid-fire way of his, circling around Charon while the boatman simply floated in front of his ferry, right hand extended to receive the obols from the shades around them.

Charon let out a few groans, mentioning how ridiculous he found the whole thing. Hermes nodded his head a few times at what Charon had said. They had been working together for quite some time now and Hermes’ guesses at what he was saying were getting better and better, and at this point Charon actually wouldn't be surprised if the other god was able to at the very least understand his sentiments, if maybe not his exact words.

Charon found he liked the thought of Hermes getting a proper handle on his ‘language’ in the maybe not so distant future. He hand only ever ‘really talked’ to his parents and his two brothers Sleep and Death. His other siblings had either never cared to learn in the first place, or, like was the case with his three sister Fates, they hadn't been around enough to actually get a grasp on his words.

It was nice to talk to someone outside of his family for once, he found. Talk about different topics for once, get another perspective on a few things, joke about things that he knew his family wouldn't really understand – like for example the strange customers he got sometimes, which unsurprisingly wasn't anything new to the god of merchants himself, and Hermes had countered by telling a few tales about his strangest trades.

Honestly, it was surprising how much Hermes and he had in common and how often their opinions overlapped. They shared their love for commerce and a good deal, both of them most comfortable when they were travelling – Hermes flying around up-world, delivering his parcels and letters and Charon traversing the rivers of the underworld to deliver shades.

It was surprisingly easy between them and Charon barely cared to remember the time before Hermes had taken over the psychopomp duty. Sure, he had liked that he had been seeing Thanatos more often back then – but his younger brother had never been a conversationalist, it had always been strictly business between them.

With Hermes it was just… different in a good way. Charon truly enjoyed it.

“Yes, that's exactly my thoughts on the whole matter too. They could just have a designated time to meet-up every now and again, but no, got to start an entire war every time.” the god of swiftness agreed before he rolled his eyes.

For a second it was quiet as Hermes drew three slower circles around Charon's floating form “Never heard that kind of thing happening here in the underworld. No wars fought just because someone doesn't get attention from their husband, or because someone got a mortal woman pregnant, or simply because someone doesn't like the layout of a city. Whatever you were squabbling about with your brother way back when certainly didn't cause a never-ending winter or anything. We both got off on the wrong foot too, didn't start some epic flood or earthquake up above either.” his words were a strange mixture between glibly dismissive and deeply bitter.

Charon had quickly realized that the other god – while clearly happy on his own most of the time – also had rare moments where he seemed to be wistful for an actual, somewhat stable family. Or maybe just someone he could be close with, someone who he could openly share his thoughts with – without the danger of causing some epic smiting contest or another millennia-long family feud.

Charon would be lying if he said he understood. He didn't. At least not truly. He had never really been a part of his family, at least not up until the birth of his two younger brothers Sleep and Death; but he also had never cared about it either.

He had liked to stick to himself, he hadn't needed anyone but his rivers. They had kept him company – had reached for him when he had been feeling sad or had soothed him when he had been angry. Their voices always in the back of his mind, their pull always heavy in his chest – connected, always, forever. Until the very end of everything else.

He didn't know what it felt like to be – or to feel – alone. And yet, he did not necessarily need to understand to offer comfort.

Hermes had stopped his familiar circling by now, wings beating softly as he halted in the air – his happy-go-lucky smile cracking slightly at the edges. Charon, on his part, stowed away his already collected coins and then floated a little closer to the now stationary god, bowing his towering form over him slightly, catching his brown eyes before he let out a low, reassuring groan, his head cocking to the side a little as he did so.

A heartbeat passed and then Hermes cracked a genuine smile and before long he was grinning up at Charon, eyes crinkling at the edges “You know,” he started in that strangely warm tone of voice he sometimes employed “actually thought you were really prickly, at first, back when we met. Just a really unpleasant fellow, all choppy hand motions and angry growling, not someone I would want to be around but, surprise, turns out you’re actually really nice once someone takes time to get to know you.”

There was some strange but soft flicker in Hermes’ eyes as he continued to look up at Charon “Am not even afraid to tell you that right to your face.” he smiled a crocked smile at that “Strange, no? Wouldn’t dare to do that with anyone from my family, wouldn’t want to start something you know. But things just seem to be a lot more straight forward with you chthonic types. Not just you, Thanatos too, little shy that one, sure, but very polite.”

There was a second of pause and then Hermes’ soft smile morphed into something more mischievous “Guess you’re all like some strange chrustacean, got to crack the hard shell before you can get to the soft, mushy parts.”

Charon let out a thick, affronted cloud of smoke at that particular comparison and raised his left arm to knock the long hilt of his oar – gently – against Hermes’ forehead; making his displeasure more than known.

The god of swiftness sputtered at that, one hand raising to cover where the wood of Charon's oar had touched him, his wings flapped as he put a bit of distance between them “Now is that any way to treat your dearest professional associate?” he demanded – though his voice was cracking at the edges, betraying his amusement and – a second later – he actually burst into laughter. A few puffs of purple smoke soon signalled that Charon had joined him in his mirth as well.

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“Don’t look at me like that.” Hermes was laughing “It’s not poisoned or anything, not that that would do anything, seeing as you’re a god and all. I just thought to myself, hey, you chthonic types down here probably don't have this stuff just lying around in abundance so why not bring some as a gift, you know, sign of good-will, little nicety.”

Hermes blabbered on, bottle of nectar held between both his palms, flying in front of Charon. The Stygian Boatman just let his gaze drop from Hermes’ face back down to the offered nectar, his glowing will-o’-wisp fixing on the golden liquid sloshing around in the bulbous bottle.

Charon, just like most of his fellow chthonic gods, didn't really get a lot of offerings – most mortals didn't look for their favour or attention after all… in fact, it was often quite the opposite. People trying to cheat Death or attempting to jump out of Charon's ferry – only to be dragged down by the river waters as punishment.

Sure, he might get his obols but those both were and weren't an offer – all they truly were from the mortals perspective was a payment for a service, nothing but a fair exchange. A business deal.

He cocked his head to the side a little, his glowing eye raising back up to Hermes. He wondered if the other god knew of the typical underworld customs – the significance a gift of nectar held down here. He couldn't be quite sure there. On one hand he would think that Hermes, born and raised on Olympus, probably didn't know what he was doing right now… but on the other hand the god of swiftness was indeed very keen and sharp and Charon wouldn't put it past him to have somehow figured out that nectar gifts, at least down here, signified a clear wish to deepen a relationship.

So did Hermes want to be friends then – no longer just implicit but explicit from now on out? Was that why he was offering that bottle? Well, they already were pretty close by now weren't they? Charon would be a liar if he tried to deny that fact. So he assumed it only made sense to make it ‘official’ with this gift.

Why not?, he thought in wry amusement as he finally stretched out his right hand. And Hermes – grinning broadly – placed the nectar into his hand nearly immediately.

For a moment Charon turned the bottle in his grip, watching the flicker of light reflect off of the golden liquid before he tucked it away into one of the many folds of his robes, his hand continued to move in a smooth motion, flicking his outer layer of robes aside a little to bare the pouch he carried around his hip.

He didn't have too much on himself right now that could be considered a worthy gift in return. He assumed he could quickly grab one of his own bottles of nectar that he had stored in his private space in Erebus… but that seemed somehow redundant and more than just a little silly – answering a bottle of nectar with another bottle of nectar.

Still, he wouldn't let himself be shown up like that.

With a few deft tucks of his fingers the pouch came loose and Charon let go of his oar with his left hand to pull the pouch open, his fingers sifted through the obols until they finally bumped into something bigger, smoother – he closed his grip around it and drew it out of the pouch.

Hermes had watched all of it with obvious curiosity – he had even drawn a bit closer, seemingly an unconscious motion. His brown eyes fixed on Charon's fingers.

Charon just thrust his hand out and Hermes was quick to cup his own two under his – he released his fingers and three large gemstones fell downward into Hermes’ waiting hands. Gems had taken on a new worth since Lord Hades’ appearance – since the Lord desired them just as much as some mortals did – but, for someone like Charon who did not visit the house often – or at all since the last altercation he had had with Lord Hades – they often only served as something to offer in his shop, something the shades might desire and pay good coin for.

Still, he was very aware of the value they had on the surface, how mortals were willing to fight whole wars for them, and he assumed that someone like Hermes, who got around a lot, traversing the mortal planes back and forth, would certainly be able to find a use for the precious stones at some point or another.

“Oh thanks, but that there nectar was really only meant as a gift, didn't expect anything in return, even if those gems are really pretty, but you really don't-” Charon cut the other god off by simply putting his right hand over Hermes’ cupped pair – closing his fingers around the gems gently. It was a clear sign, booking no further argument.

“Well, if you’re insisting then I'm going to accept this, would be stupid not to.” Hermes said as he opened his hands again, taking a closer look at what he had just been gifted in return “Really nice trio.” he lifted one of the garnets up, turning it so the low light of the candles in the temple could reflect off of it. 

Charon's eye followed the reflection too – he did not truly have a lot of use for gems, except maybe as decoration, and yet he always liked to collect the red ones anyway. They always caught his gaze in the dark, drawing him in. Garnets especially – their colour was so dark, often even darker than rubies. And in the right light they shimmered blood red. Just like Styx’s waters. So to Charon they didn't just had a monetary value but a bit of a sentimental one too.

A moment passed and then Hermes let out an impressed sounding whistle “Pure as glass too, not one fleck of dirt in there.”

He let the garnet drop into his other hand again and then pulled his satchel forward a little, opening it up so he could stow the gems away “Thanks a lot, really.” he smiled “Going to put these to good use don't worry and you,” he pointed a finger at Charon “enjoy that nectar, yes?”

A few puffs of glittering purple smoke – showing fond amusement – floated up from Charon's mouth as he inclined his head.

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It was the next day when Charon held out his right hand to Hermes.

The god of swiftness blinked at the offer before a mischievous grin split over his face “Are you sure that isn't the one I gave you yesterday?” he jabbed. Charon on his part let out a low growl that was accompanied by a thick cloud of smoke.

He half-heartedly swung the hilt of his oar in Hermes’ direction and – unsurprisingly – the god of swiftness easily dodged the lacklustre attempt at a hit, laughing the whole time. He held up both his hands in unnecessary surrender “Sorry, sorry. I didn't want to insult you.” he said and Charon believed him.

He let his left arm holding the oar sink down again and instead thrust his right had forward once more. Hermes snickered as he flew closer to take the bottle of nectar from his hands though he did not make any other comments. He pulled his satchel forward a little so he could stow the bulbous glass bottle before he started rummaging between everything he was carrying with him.

A few moments later he procured a… was that an incense burner? Made from pure silver?

“Mortals like to give me coin or offerings made from silver. I already have quite a few of these so why don't you take this newest one of my hands?”

Charon let out a startled cloud of smoke, his gaze wandering between the offered gift and Hermes’ grinning face. In the end Charon stretched his hand out again so Hermes could reach the burner over.

It was a gorgeous piece, truly. Charon turned it in his hand slowly, watching the low light of the temple glint off of it.

Finally he raised his head again, glowing eye fixing on Hermes – who was still smiling at him, a strangely warm spark in his brown eyes. Charon inclined his head, bowing a little at the hip too as he let out a grateful groan.

“That means we are even, yes? Got a few nice gems for my bottle and you got a well-made incense burner for yours.” he sing-songed in that way of his before he fluttered two playful circle around Charon.

The ferryman inclined his head at that, letting out an agreeable groan. Yes, he assumed they were indeed even now.

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“1500.” Hermes said, his wings beating quickly in the air, holding him still in front of Charon who – at this point – was floating in mid-air too, towering form bent slightly to put him nearer to Hermes.

At that proposal Charon let out a near growl and a thick curtain of smoke – which showed his affronted disbelieve very clearly. He shook his head once – vehemently and in absolute refusal – before he lifted one bony, ring-adorned pointer finger into the air.

“What? Just 1000? That's borderline insulting my good professional associate, you know, that kind of deal might fly with the gormless shades milling about here but it surely won’t work on me.”

Charon assumed it had only been a matter of time before they ended up here – the god of coin and commerce haggling with the only real merchant of the underworld.

“You know that stuff is really hard to come by now that Demeter is so set on freezing absolutely everything yes? I'm not about to just gift it away, not even to you.” a beat of pause “Fine, I won’t be like that, I’ll be generous, special offer just for you – 1400.”

At that Charon gave a scoff, a plume of thick smoke rising from his mouth – despite what Hermes seemingly thought he wasn't made of money. Still, he also knew that he would be able to resell for downright ludicrous prices in Elysium and so, after a beat or two, he let out a thin stream of smoke and raised two fingers, groaning out his new price.

Hermes blinked at that new offer “Oh no, 1200 is still too low. I know you can only get this through me, no other way to procure it otherwise, so I won’t let myself be scammed here.” a smug chuckle followed and Charon answered it with an angry growl.

Oh that little…! He knew exactly what he was doing, knew exactly that he was the only source Charon could ask and he was unbearably smug because of that too, demanding whatever amount he fancied – obviously trying to rob Charon blind. 

Fine, let him choke on it, Charon thought, raising three fingers before making a choppy cut-off motion with his right hand in the air, making it clear that this was his very last offer. Take it or leave it, because Charon certainly wouldn't let himself be played like a cheap lyre.

“1300? Last offer? Really?” Hermes nearly needled, his voice was downright glib and Charon only nodded once, letting out a deep groan. If Hermes didn't want to take that deal then he could keep his wares.

The god of swiftness let out a thoughtful hum at that, wings beating, carrying him forwards and then around and around as he circled Charon’s stationary, floating form “You know,” he suddenly sing-songed “Those obols of yours are specifically for burials, bearing Lord uncle Hades’ crest and all, can’t really buy anything with them up above.”

If Charon could slit his eye in irritation he would do so right now. He let out a very thick cloud of glittering purple smoke followed by an angry hissing noise. That little trickster! Trying every angle just to get a cheaper deal. Unbelievable!

Not that it would actually work on Charon. He, after all, hadn't come into existence only just yesterday. Gold was gold, no matter its form or coinage, and as such it could simply be molten down again and fashioned into new coins that were more useful up above.

He made another harsh cut-off motion in the air, letting out a growl, the waters around the temple picked up speed. 1300 was all he was willing to give. Not one single obol more.

Hermes finally stopped his circling, drawing to a stop in front of Charon again. He had both his hands raised in mocking surrender, a grin on his face “Well, was worth a try, you would have done the same thing in my stead.”

For a second everything was still and then the agitated water currents around them calmed again as Charon gave a begrudging agreement to those words, nodding his head slightly – he wouldn't deny it, he would have tried the same trick.

“So 1300 really is the last offer?” Hermes asked again and Charon, again, nodded. A heartbeat or two passed, their eyes fixed on one another – two predators looking for weakness, trying to find a soft spot they could dig their teeth into… but in the end they both came away empty handed.

Hermes gave a sigh “That's really quiet low…” his nose wrinkled for a moment before his expression smoothed out again “But it’s not like the mortals could give me a better price currently, most of them have nothing but the clothes on their back right now, what with Demeter and her vendetta. So I guess I got to take what I can get, where I can get it, no? Fine, 1300 for every bottle of Ambrosia I can bring you.” he finally agreed and stretched out his hand.

At that Charon let go of his oar and extended both his hands as well, right one grasping Hermes’ proffered one, while his left one cupped around the other gods knuckles – he gave a gentle squeeze, finalizing their deal.

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“Passed a completely frozen village just the other day, looked like some kind of invaluable glass sculpture, would have been nearly picturesque you know, if not for all the frozen people stuck in the snow like some sort of morbid doll collection, probably already delivered all of them here, and quite some time ago too by the looks of that place.” Hermes said in that unbothered way of his, circling playfully around Charon's floating form as he was wont to do.

“Already mentioned that I don't think the humans kidnapped Kore but, you know, if they actually had done it then they probably long since would have coughed her up again just to get Demeter off their backs. Poor fools, being caught up in all that family drama like that.” at that last part Hermes shook his head, an expression close to pity flitting over his face – though his eyes also sparked in that peculiar way they always did when he talked about his family’s problems.

“Wonder where she might have run off to.” Hermes continued, now sounding nearly intrigued, as if he had just stumbled upon an interesting mystery “Probably not too hard to track actually, had a touch like Thanatos, only in the completely opposite way. When your brother touches living stuff it all withers up but Kore just had to set foot somewhere, could be the most barren and dead wasteland, and pop, greenery sprouted up. Looked like it too, like greenery and plants I mean, hair like wheat and eyes like grass.”

For a second Charon lifted his eye from the shades milling around them, the glowing purple will-o’-wisp moving from the left socket to the right so it could better fix on Hermes whenever he passed in front of him in his circling. 

An Olympian goddess with hair like wheat and eyes like grass, who had disappeared to some hidden location that even the gods on Olympus seemingly couldn't find? With a green touch that made plants sprout no matter how hostile or unfriendly the terrain was?

A stray thought popped in Charon's head but…

…

No… no… that was ludicrous… that couldn't be. And yet…

A moment passed and then Charon gave a soft groan, prompting Hermes wordlessly “Oh, got you curious too doesn't it?” Hermes chuckled at his reaction “Pegged you for someone who would like a good mystery.”

It took a moment but then Hermes actually continued in his explanation “Was the goddess of verdure you see, could grow basically anything anywhere you know; the mortals would probably kill for that kind of power right about now. Actually grew a few nice vineyards for Dionysus back in the day, a few priceless rose-shrubs for Aphrodite too, though she usually spent most of her time growing pomegranates. Never really got why she liked them that much though, taste kind of strange to me, not quite sweet but not quite bitter either, kind of strangely metallic, no that's not quite it? Ugh, just really weird. Can’t even really describe the flavour. You ever had a pomegranate?” Hermes asked but Charon was only half listening to him at this point.

Pomegranates?

Charon's always billowing smoke stuttered to an abrupt halt as he connected all the dots like mortals connected stars into constellations – his shoulders tensed and Hermes, for better or worse, immediately seemed to pick up on his sudden discomfort.

“What?” the god of swiftness asked, stopping his idle circling to flutter closer, his expression actually looking concerned, lips slightly pursed and brows knit. He was worried, that much was obvious.

For a long moment Charon simply stared at the other god, nearly unseeing, his mind whirling – behind him the waters of the rivers shuddered. And suddenly he knew that he could never speak of what he had just realized. To no one. Never. 

If Olympus ever found out that they were harbouring Kor… Persephone, the vanished and seemingly desperately missed goddess, and that said goddess was married to Lord Hades, indeed was now Queen of the underworld… the consequences would be unspeakable – brutal and swift.

For a moment an image flashed through Charon's mind again, an old memory at this point – the Olympian gods, blood smeared and cheering, flicking bits and pieces of their parents around Tartarus.

Back then it had only been a few but they had children and grandchildren now… so many goddesses and gods – while they, in comparison, were only a handful of chthonic gods down here in the underworld.

Charon's blood ran cold and again the waters around him quivered, disquiet and concerned, the last remnants of blue Acheron and the beginnings of red Styx sloshing, lapping at the edges of the temple, two worried spouses trying to reach for their obviously distressed husband.

“Hey.” the gentle prompting was what finally jarred Charon out of his spiralling thoughts “Are you okay?” Hermes asked, fluttering a little lower so he could look up at Charon without the wide brimmed hat hindering his view.

A second passed but then Charon nodded – though he feared it might have been a little too jerky. Hermes let out a doubtful noise, drawing an uncommonly tight circle around Charon, barely refraining from brushing against him. 

“Are you sure?” Hermes asked as he came to a stop in front of Charon – one if his hands was raised as if he was about to reach out, as if he wanted to maybe curl his fingers around Charon's forearm – maybe as a comfort or just a point of contact – but in the end he simply left it unmoving and frozen in the air between them, unsure.

Charon only mutely nodded again, feeling an unfamiliar sort of desperation welling up within him – willing Hermes to just believe him and stop his questioning.

“I…” for a second Hermes’ mouth simply remained open, no other words leaving him. A heartbeat passed before he lowered his still raised hand again and inclined his head the slightest bit “Okay.” he conceded and Charon had seldomly felt so relieved. 

A heartbeat of silence and then, nearly urging “But if you change your mind I don't have a problem listening you know, usually it’s just me who talks but it might be nice to upheaval the routine a little, try something new once in a while.”

No, Charon could never talk about any of this… 

… but Hermes didn't know that and his was honestly a nice offer, Charon could recognize that and so he bowed a little, showing his gratitude for an offered service he could never take.

“Good, good.” Hermes said and then seemed to hesitate “Lost track of time there for a moment but am not yet late, so if you want me to-”

Before he could finish his offer Charon had raised his right hand, brushing it through black hair. He shook his head with finality.

For a moment it seemed like Hermes would still protest but then he nodded. Charon drew his hand back and instead raised it to tip his hat in his usual good-bye, cutting their conversation short “Yeah, see you tomorrow.” Hermes gave back, though he sounded a lot less peppy than he normally did.

The god of swiftness lingered for a second longer and then, finally, he flew off in a whirlwind of orange and gold.

Charon looked after him for a long time before he finally moved again, lowering himself from his float, feet touching the ground. He walked to the very edge of the stone walkway where Styx and Acheron reached out for him. They wetted his robes in a reassuring, familiar way. A small comfort that was sorely needed right about now.


	11. Strawberries

For the next few days Hermes acted like Cerberus when he had a new bone – his eyes lingering a lot longer than normal and the circle he drew around Charon had grown smaller and smaller and by now they were so tight that he was often brushing Charon's robes or sometimes even his body below them with a wing, the heel of a foot, sometimes his shoulders or elbows.

It was reassuring and undeniably sweet… in a very discomfiting and unwelcome way – since Charon could clearly recognize the genuine worry yet also wished for nothing more than for Hermes to just _**drop**_ the issue and leave all of it be.

It likely also didn't help the situation that Charon had been rather tense indeed since he had had his little revelation. And the more Hermes wanted to reach out a hand the more Charon drew back – irrationally afraid that Hermes would somehow suddenly figure everything out.

It was a silly worry – Hermes did not even know that the underworld had a Queen, that Lord Hades had a wife. So how could he ever even guess at the possibility of Persephone – or ‘Kore’ – being said wife and Queen? He would need to be borderline psychic to do so – which, as far as Charon knew, wasn't a gift he possessed.

And yet here Charon was – Stygian Boatman, husband to all the rivers in the underworld, brother of Doom, Retribution, Death and even the three Fates themselves … and he was anxious in a way he had never been before.

He tried putting a little distance between Hermes and he again – trying to re-establish the more professional relationship they had had before they had become too friendly with each other… but Hermes for his part seemed less than pleased by this new development and for every step that Charon tried to take back Hermes seemingly took two forward in some kind of stubborn determination.

It was nearly a week after Charon had found out the link between ‘Kore’ and Queen Persephone when…

“Here.” Hermes said in a voice that clearly booked no argument as he thrust a small wooden bowl into Charon's hand “Special deliver from me just for you.”

The Stygian Boatman barely had a second to react, he was even forced to let go of his oar to receive the bowl with two hands so that it wouldn't accidentally slip and fall to the ground. For a second he remained still before he lowered his head slightly, his one purple eye focusing on what he had just been given.

In the bowl were several small red fruits, blood red like Styx, skin shining like Queen Persephone's pomegranates. He couldn't put a name to them, Charon, after all, could not really leave the underworld – not like his younger brother Thanatos could – and therefore he hadn't seen too much of the mortal realm.

Sure, he was able to traverse upwards on Acheron, but he only could only go so far before the pull in his chest became painful, the rivers of the underworld wailing like terrified spouses desperate to keep their husband close.

Even without ever having tested it Charon just knew deep down in his divine soul that if he ever went too far the pull, the pressure in his chest, would simply rend him asunder, leave him for dead until one of the rivers – likely Styx – rose to embrace him and carry him back home where he belonged.

He cocked his head at the offer and his confusion must have shown because Hermes suddenly quipped up “Strawberries.” the other god supplied “Guess you don't have those down here, can be rather finicky you see, probably wouldn't grow underground, rather hard to come by at this time too, even above, freeze very easily you see.”

At that Charon raised his eye upward again, fixing it on the other god. Hermes just shot him a crooked grin “Talked about fruits the last time didn't we? Told you I really don't like pomegranates so I thought I’d bring you something that I actually _**do like**_ , you see, always had a thing for strawberries, have actually been told that I was nursed under a strawberry tree, not sure if that one is just a joke old Pops likes to tell or actually true but you know how it is.”

He drew a few playful, tight circles around Charon as he talked, shoulders and elbows brushing Charon's robes, making them flutter back and forth slightly like a black shroud “Have a little spot for myself up above, you see, a few well placed blessings and you can at least somewhat combat Demeter’s snow. Sure, might not have Kore’s green thumb but my results aren't bad either. So I thought I might share a bit of that with you.”

Hermes’ circling had grown faster and faster as he talked, all six of his wings beating quickly – as if he was both incredibly excited as well as extremely anxious. 

Charon, for his part, had the sudden wish to have actual lips just so he might be able to press them together in indecision.

He cocked his head slightly so he could regard Hermes whenever he passed in front of Charon. These strawberries were Hermes’ equivalent to Charon's garnets weren't they? Something that held an incredible amount of sentimental value and was gifted precisely because of that.

The symbolism wasn't lost on Charon and the deeper meaning wasn't either. Hermes was desperate to reaffirm their friendship wasn't he? Trying to gift something very personal to Charon – baring himself so to speak.

At the realization something twisted uncomfortably in Charon's chest cavity – not unlike the yearning pull he sometimes felt when one of his rivers was calling for him.

He watched Hermes’ still circling from – how tense his shoulders were and how thin and bloodless his mouth had become. Hermes’ brown eyes were glinting sharply, but beneath that sharp fire Charon also saw a flicker of something else – a flicker that reminded him painfully of Hypnos’ sad look whenever he realized that his two brothers had to leave him again to continue their work.

Slowly but surely he felt his resolve crumbling. What kind of mess had they all gotten themselves involved in here, he asked himself, feeling exhausted – all the centuries and centuries of his existence suddenly seeming to crush down on him.

…

Well, he assumed it was rather unfair to try and close Hermes out again just because Charon had found the connection between missing ‘Kore’ and Queen Persephone. Non of this was Hermes’ fault and to indirectly punish him by shoving him away certainly wasn't just, no matter Charon's own reservations and worries about the whole situation.

And as long as everyone in the underworld continued to make sure that no one would ever even catch a single hint of Queen Persephone’s true location everything could move on as it had until now, no? Beside, wouldn’t suddenly changing the rhythm and drawing back be even more suspicious than simply going on as usual?

…

Charon was painfully aware that he, right now, was trying to rationalize and explain away a very valid worry just because he didn't want to hurt Hermes’ feelings – and maybe because he himself had become a little too fond of the other gods company too.

What a mess, he thought again – wishing he was able to close his eye in exhaustion.

Another moment passed but in the end he just let out a thick cloud of smoke – defeated. He carefully balanced the bowl on his left hand and lowered his freed-up right one to flick his outer layer of robes back to reach for his coin pouch.

He didn't get far though because, just as he was about to lift his robe, Hermes caught his hand between both of his on. The god of swiftness had been so quick and sudden in his movement that it actually had managed to startle Charon. 

He pulled Charon's bony, long-fingered right hand up again before he cupped it back around the bowl “Oh no. No payback this time around, this is a present.” the tone Hermes had employed was unyielding – clearly accepting no argument.

Charon's gaze sank again to the bowl of strawberries, fingers of his right hand curling back around the edges – and only then did Hermes, somewhat hesitantly, let go of his hand again.

Hermes’ expression was open and hopeful. His gaze was expectantly fixed on Charon – though there was a hint of worry visible in the deep brown too, as if he was afraid Charon might just chuck the bowl into the rivers behind them any moment now.

Charon drew in a slightly stuttering breath – the wheeze loud in the otherwise silent hall of the temple – before he simply drew the bowl closer to his chest – making it clear that he wholly accepted the present and the obvious sentiment Hermes wanted to convey with it. 

He inclined his head once in gratitude, letting out a gentle groan too, just for good measure – and it had the desired effect. Hermes was soon grinning broadly, drawing a few more playful circles around Charon – obviously pleased.

#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+

For the longest time Charon just waited. Waited for the horse hair to snap and for the sword to finally drop above all their heads. Waited for the high, heavy doors of the temple Styx to swing open one day only to reveal the armed masses of Olympus, ready to storm the underworld and get Queen Persephone back.

…

But time passed as it always did, moving on and on… and nothing happened. All remained the same. And, gradually, Charon began to relax again. His tensed shoulders uncurling, the slightly anxious whisper in the back of his mind quietening as he slowly began to shake his head over his own antics.

Why had he even been so irrationally worried in the first place?

The Olympians obviously didn't care for the underworld, it could crumble into dust and most of them wouldn't even notice. Many of them even abandoned their closest followers and worshippers once they had died and therefore lost their ‘worth’ – Charon had by now long since lost count on how many shades he had heard whining about Dionysus leaving them. 

And so, since non of them really cared about the workings of the underworld non of them would even consider visiting or looking in on everything that was going on underneath the earth and so non of them would ever find Queen Persephone on their own.

No shade was able to escape and Queen Persephone hadn't ever stepped one foot outside the underworld before. There were no letters and no other exchange of word. And Hermes, who was the only Olympian god who was in some form involved in the workings of the underworld, surely wouldn't simply try to get in after his and Charon's less than ideal first meeting – Charon trusted in that.

He would, in fact, even bet coin on it – and he never betted unless he was completely sure that he would win.

So… Charon assumed the underworld and everyone living down here were as safe as they could get – just as long as everything stayed the same and no big changes happened. It had worked this long, hadn't it?

Even despite the fact that Charon repeated those thought to himself rather often he never quite managed to put his worry _**completely**_ out of his mind – but he. at the very least. was able to bury them so far down that he seldomly thought of them for more than a few moments at a time.

And so, normalcy finally returned.

#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+

“Oh, that looks really interesting, never really looked at it this closely before, now I kind of wished I’d done so sooner.” Hermes said, flying a few tight circles around Charon's floating form, one of his wings accidentally brushed against Charon's robes, making them flutter momentarily.

This was something that had stayed. Even after they had gone back to how things had been before Hermes now still flew circles that were much smaller than they had been before – nearly as if he suddenly couldn't stand any open space between them anymore.

Finally the god of swiftness came to a stop behind Charon. A second passed and suddenly Charon felt two hands curling around his shoulders as a head appearing over his right shoulder.

This was new too. Hermes had started touching Charon more than he had ever done in the past – brushing hands against his lower arms, patting his shoulder, bumping into him playfully. At first Charon had expected that he would come to find it irritating at some point – since he had never really liked other people being overtly touchy with him – but, surprisingly, Charon found he really didn't mind.

The way Hermes’ hands were currently resting on his shoulders even reminded him a little of Hypnos, though Hermes’ hold seemed a lot more deliberate – he was obviously doing it on purpose and not just because he was unconsciously clingy. His fingers were not just resting but holding on, as if he was trying to keep Charon right where he was – close by his side.

Charon found he liked the other gods touch. It was warmer than both his brothers’ or his mother’s. Mother Nyx’s fingers felt like a soft yet crisp night breeze, Thanatos’ like the gentle but cold touch of Death and Hypnos’, while always sleep-warm, was nowhere near the warmth that Hermes seemed to radiate so naturally.

For a second Charon found he actually worried a little about his own low body temperature – did he feel cold underneath Hermes’ palms? Cool like the fresh waters of the underworld rivers?

He turned his head slightly to the right, where Hermes was looking down over his shoulder at his slightly raised right hand. He tried to read the other god’s expression – tried to gauge if Hermes was put off by Charon's low temperature.

His glowing eye dragging over sharp brows, warm brown eyes, the dangling, slightly reflecting earrings he wore, the strong jaw and a mouth that… that suddenly curled up into a smug smile.

Charon's eye flickered higher again to see that Hermes was now throwing him a mischievous look, one brow raised in playful challenge – and only then did Charon realize that he had been staring quite rudely.

For a second his smoke stuttered, the usually steady billow cutting off here or there before he groaned out an apology. Surprisingly Hermes just rolled his eyes and snorted softly as if he found Charon's behaviour both funny as well as slightly irritating.

A moment passed in which both gods were simply looking at each other – their faces very close to one another thanks to their positions. Charon realized something felt worryingly loose in his chest all of a sudden… but before he could figure out what it was Hermes nodded downwards “Can you raise it a little higher so I can see it better?” he asked, bringing them both back to the conversation they had had before this strange moment had happened.

A rather large cloud of smoke rose and then Charon raised his right hand higher so that Hermes could better see it from over his shoulder, turning his wrist back and forth so the other god could regard his rings in all their glory. The focus of attention had been on the one he wore on his actual ring-finger – a broad, golden band, adorned with a single, big precious stone.

Not a gem nor stained glass nor anything else of the like, no, it was a mass of pure darkness, seemingly bending the light around it, so black it seemed like a hole in time and space – though, sometimes, when one looked closely, one could see reflections, like caught stardust.

Charon had had that particular ring for a long as he could truly remember – it had been a gift from both his parents and it was incredibly precious – not necessarily because of its actual worth; since Charon doubted most would even be able to recognize its value; but instead because of its significance. Sentimental value, if one wanted to call it that.

Hermes’ right hand loosened its hold on Charon's shoulder to instead reaching forward and grab the ferryman’s wrist, turning his hand for him. The touch was incredibly warm and gentle and, for a few moments, Charon simply let it happen. 

In the end though he flexed his fingers and drew his hand back. He let go of his oar with his left one and then raised it, thumb and pointer grasping at the ring around his right ring-finger and with a twist and a pull the ring came loose. He made a small come-hither-motion with his right hand and – as Hermes’ fingers opened up in answer – he placed the ring there, so the other god would be able to look at it as thoroughly as he liked.

Hermes loosened his hold completely at that, left hand falling from Charon's shoulder as well. His wings flapped and soon he was drawing tight circles around Charon, flying with his back to the ground as he turned and turned the ring in his own hands – looking at it from every possible angle.

Charon for his part simply curled both his hands around the hilt of his oar again in a relaxed motion and waited until the other god had looked his fill. Distantly he realized that he had never really pulled his ring off before, never placed it into anyone's hands – too possessive of it to ever even consider the option.

And yet, right now, he had just placed it in the hands of a trickster god without a second thought – and he wasn't even worried about anything happening. A few moments passed and then said trickster god stopped his circling and instead placed the ring right back in Charon's hand faithfully and without hesitation.

As Charon twisted the ring back onto his finger he let out a thoughtful groan.

… He wondered what this easy trust, this unworried familiarity, said about him – his eye rose to Hermes, who was smiling a warm smile at him – what it said about _**both of them**_.

All of this felt weird. The whole atmosphere around them had seemingly suddenly shifted and there was still this strangely loose feeling in Charon's chest – as if something had been unmoored and was now drifting freely without tether.

#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+

“Well, see you around my dearest professional associate.” Hermes quipped, a broad grin on his face and Charon simply tipped his hat in good-bye. As usual he waited until he could be sure Hermes was truly gone before he floated up to his designated spot on his ferry.

His oar dipped into the water and with an easy, familiar motion he pushed off, ferrying the shades to their final destinations. He returned to Elysium afterwards, selling some of his more premium wares before he finally returned to his own private space in Erebus.

His personal space were hidden and concealed by darkness – squirrelled away even from Lord Hades’ supposed omnipotent presence. A save heaven for Charon and all his possessions.

All in all it had been a normal day… until it suddenly wasn't anymore.

He had been busy stowing away his coins and trinkets into one of his many chests when he suddenly heard the soft, low voice of his mother “My child.” she called for him. 

She was one of the few who actually knew of Charon's secluded little place down in Erebus – yet she didn't make a habit of encroaching on his space, in fact, Charon could count the times she had searched him out down here on one bony hand.

He straightened up from his crouch, following her voice, feet padding gently against the stone ground. Finally he caught a glimpse of her… and it made him stop. She looked… Charon could not quite put a word to it.

Her proud, straight posture was bent slightly and even though her face was impassive her eyes held a deep seated grief. Charon bowed his own towering from slightly – trying to appear smaller than he actually was – and let out a series of groans as he finally drew to a stop in front of her.

For a moment mother Nyx seemed to falter but then she simply answered him “I'm fine, my child. But thank you for asking.” she didn't sound fine but Charon knew the tone of her voice – it was clear that she wouldn't stand for further pushing or needling – and so he simply inclined his head mutely; letting the issue drop.

“I am sorry to disturb you unannounced in your private space but I have something I must request of you.” her voice was calm and gentle as usual but there was a small undercurrent of urgency too, hidden well, true, but not hidden well enough for Charon not to pick up on it.

Again Charon inclined his head, he let out another few groans, letting his mother know that he would fulfil whatever duty she might ask of him. The corners of her mouth deepened a little at that – only the barest hint of a grateful smile.

“There is someone waiting for you at the entrance of the house – someone who needs a guide to lead them upwards and out of this realm.”

At that Charon briefly stilled. He raised his eye towards his mother, letting out a questioning noise at which mother Nyx only nodded “You heard correctly, my child. I ask that you guide someone out of this realm, up until the earth gives way – to the surface.” a second of pause “Will you fulfil that favour for me?”

Again Charon inclined his head “Good. Then go immediately as time is of the essence.” she said and, a second later, she was already gone again – vanished in a vortex of darkness and stardust.

A heartbeat passed as Charon mutely looked at the spot his mother had occupied only a moment ago – wondering what all of this might be about – before he finally flew into motion. He stretched his left arm out in a demanding gesture and the oar, which, until then, had been resting against a pile of full bags in the corner rose faithfully to his side.

His feet left the ground and before long he was standing on his designated spot at the helm of his ferry again. A smooth, fast push-off as he made his way out of Erebus upwards to Tartarus – to the house.

It did not take long for him to reach his designation and he gently placed his oar against the stone of Tartarus – stopping his ferry. He refrained from ringing his bell to signal his arrival – from the way mother Nyx had spoken it was obvious that whatever was going on was to be done in secrecy.

He waited, glowing will-o’-wisp of an eye moving between its two sockets as he took in the house. He hadn't been in the house in years and years – but it still looked just like he remembered it. 

He didn't know how long he stood there on his ferry in silence but finally he saw movement, the form of a woman emerging, and if Charon could have blinked in befuddlement he would have done so in that very moment.

It was Queen Persephone who was stepping towards his ferry, a small bag held in her right hand. She gave him a slightly wobbly smile “Charon.” she greeted, her voice oddly quiet and frayed at the very edges.

For a second Charon was left utterly speechless but finally life snapped back into him and he hastened to reach up with his right hand to tip his hat at her in greeting. The Queen only inclined her head at his hello before she mutely stepped onto his ferry, sitting down on one of the benches, her face towards Charon.

She lifted her head, her eyes fixing on the ferryman “Up, please.” she requested and Charon nodded, dipping his oar into the red waters of Styx.

To say he wasn't shocked would be a lie – he hadn't seen the Queen in years and years, and now that he actually met her again she just looked so… reduced. How she sat hunched over in his ferry, two arms curled around her mid-rift as if she was trying to protect something, her face drawn, her eyes missing their fiery spark – it was clear that something severe had happened.

Something that had robbed the usually so radiant Queen of her bright shine.

She seemed haunted, her eyes nearly unseeing and Charon thought it best to just fulfil his own duty in silence, like a mute sentinel – the only sound between them his always slightly laboured and wheezing breathing.

He rowed her up and up, bloody Styx bleeding into flaming Phlegethon, Phlegethon bleeding into sluggish Lethe until finally the blue crystal of Acheron appeared beneath his ferry. He rowed until he breached the earth – up above it was night, the moon missing from the sky, as if giving a little extra darkness, a little extra cover.

“Here.” Queen Persephone said, her voice weak in a way Charon had never heard it before – it lacked its fire, its stubbornness.

He heeded her command easily, stopping his ferry. For a moment all was still and then Queen Persephone unfolded herself, raising from the bench of his ferry. Her right hand reaching for her bag before she finally stepped out of the boat and onto land – her feet sinking a little in the snow.

Slowly the snow seemed to thaw around her feet, grass curling upwards, a single tiny flower bursting from the ground between the toes of her left foot.

Charon watched the spectacle silently – goddess of verdure indeed, he thought. He looked at her, at her first few steps away. It was obvious that this was farewell.

A tense moment passed… and Charon knew he probably shouldn't… but in the end he let out a low groan, catching the Queen’s attention again.

She turned back towards him, regarding him with those haunted eyes of her and Charon mutely loosened his right hand from his oar. He reached beneath the folds of his robes and finally procured a small crystal.

It was hollowed out and caught inside were a few drops of Styx’s red water, it sloshed back and forth with every motion as Charon reached his arm out to place it in Queen Persephone's hand.

The Queen blinked at the small crystal “What should I do with it?” she finally asked, her emerald eyes raising to look at Charon face.

Charon for his part just silently curled the fingers of his right hand in the air in a harsh, crushing motion.

“Break it?” Queen Persephone asked at that and Charon nodded once before he raised his oar from the waters of Acheron so he could gently – oh so gently – tap the wood against the bell of his ferry. It gave a very soft and sweet chime – the trill that always signalled Charon's arrival.

For a second Queen Persephone glanced between the crystal now resting in her hand and the bell of the ferry but, before long, her eyes widened in realization “If I break it you will come to get me? It’s a calling card then?” she asked and Charon nodded.

A heartbeat or two of silence and then a wavering smile appeared on the Queen’s face “Thank you.” she said, her voice deeply grateful. She inclining her head slightly and Charon gave a deep, respectful bow in answer. He straightened up again, free hand raising to his hat, he tipped it at the Queen in a silent farewell before he dipped his oar back into the waters of Acheron again.

It was their cue. Queen Persephone stowed the crystal away safely and turned on her heel, flowers marking her path as she left while Charon himself pushed off in a familiar, easy motion, rowing back home.


	12. Four

For once all three of them were standing together in one room, which happened seldomly enough. Usually Thanatos was out reaping mortals, Hypnos, while easy to find in the little paradise of rest he had build for himself in the house, was often sleeping, and Charon himself tended to the freshly departed, ferrying shades to and fro as was his duty. They had long since given up trying to make met-ups work for all three of them at the same time and so they usually just stuck to meetings of two.

This time around though it had been mother Nyx’s explicit command that they all should come to her room at this precise moment – and so the three brothers stood and waited.

“What do you think Mom wants to show us?” Hypnos asked, reclining in the air, laying on his quilt-like cape like one might lie in a hammock. He was asking the question Charon had been asking himself for some time now too – and he was rather certain Thanatos was asking the same question as well, though his younger brother did an admirable job hiding his curiosity.

“We will find out soon enough.” Thanatos gave back in answer, ever trying to be the level-headed and collected one. He was standing on the ground for once, not floating several inches in the air, and Charon absent-mindedly noticed that his younger brother was, indeed, a little shorter than he himself – maybe two or three inches, give or take.

Seeing both Hypnos as well as Thanatos standing in one room made Charon aware of how much time had already passed since their birth. Both his younger brothers had grown up so much it was sometimes hard for Charon to reconcile the fact that always dozing and slightly fussy Hypnos and often teleporting Thanatos were grown gods now – still _**young**_ gods, but grown ones non the less.

He was jostled out of his musing by the sound of a door opening – mother Nyx finally stepping out of her actual room into the antechamber, where her sons were currently waiting for her.

If Charon could have blinked in surprise he would have – instead he simply cocked his head to the side in a motion that was half wonder and half disbelieve. Beside him he could hear Thanatos drawing in a sharp, audible breath of surprise while Hypnos on his other side let out a wondrous “Whoooo.”

There, in mother Nyx’s arms, pressed against her chest, was a child – another young god. Now, Charon had known that his mother had ben largely absent as of late, keeping to herself, tucked away and hidden to the point that once or twice Hypnos and even Thanatos had asked him if he knew where she had gone, if she had passed by him, employed his ferry maybe to go somewhere.

But of all the things that could have been the cause for that he really wouldn't have imagined that her absence was due to another pregnancy.

Mother Nyx stepped closer to them, the baby cradled securely in her arms “This is your new brother Zagreus.” she introduced them all “He was sired by Lord Hades.”

Again Charon wished he could blink in disbelieve but instead he just let out a thick cloud of smoke. Lord Hades? Really? He would have thought his mother had better taste. Or maybe she had simply taken pity on the Lord who's wife had ran away. Charon assumed it would work time-wise, since it already had been close to a year since he had rowed Queen Persephone out of the underworld.

In the end he mentally shook his head to himself. Well, he wouldn't judge mother Nyx’s decision. She was centuries and centuries older than Charon, eternal, powerful and wise, and she could decide whomever she wanted to lay with and for whatever reason she wanted to do so by herself.

A hush had fallen over the room but it was broken by Hypnos, who was the first to move. Sleep turned in the air, no longer on his back but now floating with his front facing the ground and his legs drawn in slightly. He approached mother Nyx, stretching out a hand to poke a curious finger into the chubby right cheek of the babe – the left was securely smushed against mother Nyx chest, hiding half his face.

“Wow! He’s so small and chubby.” Hypnos sounded positively smitten and Charon couldn't help but let out a sound of laughter at his words, glittering purple smoke rising in small puffs from the edges of his mouth.

“That's because he is still a baby.” Thanatos said, sounding nearly chiding – as he often did, sometimes on purpose and sometimes quite on accident. He was standing stock still, as if he was still unsure if he wanted to actually approach mother Nyx and his new brother.

Hypnos turned his head towards his twin “Are all babies like that then?”

At that Thanatos opened his mouth only to close it again a moment later. A second passed and then he finally answered “Mortal babies are.” he said slowly, a very small furrow appearing between his brows.

With a slight smile playing along her mouth mother Nyx stepped in to save her son from a possible flounder “And the children of gods are too.”

“ _Though I remember Thanatos having an uncommonly gaunt face even as a newborn._ ” Charon said – even if it only came out as a series of groans – before he took the few steps closer that separated mother Nyx and he. Behind him he heard Thanatos sputter slightly while Hypnos let out an amused giggle at his twin’s obvious embarrassed indignation. 

Charon looked at the small god in his mother’s arms for a moment, taking him in. He certainly looked like Lord Hades’ offspring – black sclera and Styx-red eyes, black hair not like a night sky – not like mother Nyx – but like buried coal, making it obvious who had sired him.

Most of mother Nyx’s children took after her, their eyes golden, hair either a soft white-silver or a bluish-black like the sky once Helios’ Chariot had left its place. This one didn't; looking more as if it was born from Lord Hades alone, just like Athena was born from Zeus.

Then again, Charon himself took more after Erebus than Nyx, with tar black skin stretched tight over a skull-like face – even if the rest of his skin from the mid-point of his neck downward was light like his mother’s – then there was his single glowing eye and of course the chthonic smoke unendingly billowing from his mouth – all children of Erebus shared that particular trait, the smoke was purple in Charon's case; but white from his brother Aether and the softest blue, just like new dawn, from his sister Hemera.

His new brother had Lord Hades’ flame feet too, Charon observed nearly idly before he finally raised his right hand, carefully curling his bony, ring-adorned pointer finger under his brothers chin, turning his face so he could look at him in full and…

Charon froze and it must have been obvious, for mother Nyx’s gentle expression suddenly turned tense as she raised her head to look at her towering son in front of her.

Green. Verdant green. Like fresh grass in spring, like new blooms only waiting to burst and blossom, like the leafs of the pomegranate trees standing in the now locked off gardens of the underworld.

Charon let out a soundless, thick stream of smoke that betrayed his clear surprise and recognition. He had expected the other eye to be red and black too, hadn't wondered too much about why mother Nyx seemingly was so intend on smushing the child’s left cheek against her bosom – hidden, tucked away.

But now it was obvious. Because that there wasn't the ruby colour of Lord Hades’ eyes, nor the gold that mother Nyx and most of his siblings shared – no, this was the emerald green of Queen Persephone.

His hand fell away slightly, hovering in the space between mother Nyx’s arm and the baby’s chin. He raised his eye upwards from the baby, locking on his mother, looking for answers – and he found those answers in her stricken, saddened gaze.

“This is your brother, Zagreus.” she repeated – her voice a little too thick – she was looking him square in the eye and Charon inclined his head, letting out a groan in affirmation. At that mother Nyx’s tense expression relaxed, smoothing back into the gentle look she had worn before – her liquid golden eyes betraying a deep gratitude.

Charon raised his hand again, finger again touching the baby’s chin, his thumb curling up to stroke over the child’s chubby cheek – just as he had done years and years ago with both Hypnos and Thanatos.

He finally drew back and instead positioned his arms and mother Nyx, wordlessly, deposited young Zagreus in his hold. He was warm, was the first thing Charon noticed. Even through his two layers of robes he could feel the heat the baby was radiating – so much hotter than cool Thanatos or even sleep-warm Hypnos were. Warmer even than Hermes. Holding him felt like standing right in front of Phlegethon’s fire. After the momentary heat-shock had worn off Charon easily and gently adjusted the baby, cradling him carefully against his chest.

“Oh! You’re pretty good at this.” Hypnos said and floated closer to him, a curious hand reaching out to ruffle through Zagreus’ coal hair, though the baby was currently more interested in grabbing at the glittering obols adorning Charon's wide, golden gorget than in what Hypnos was doing. 

At that remark Charon simply raised his head to look at his younger brother – shooting him what amounted to a deadpan look.

“Don’t forget he helped to raise both you and your brother, my child.” mother Nyx reminded, ever patient.

“Can I hold him too?” Hypnos asked suddenly, big, questioning eyes snapping to his mother and mother Nyx nodded her head once in answer.

Charon stepped closer to his floating brother, carefully switching the young god to his arms – adjusting Hypnos’ untrained hold as he went so the baby’s neck was properly supported.

“Wow, he’s pretty warm – like standing right in front of a hearth.” Hypnos spoke aloud the thought Charon had had for himself only a moment ago. He had switched position again, now more or less sitting in mid-air, nearly curled around his supposed brother. For a moment he was simply looking down at the babe in his arms, a smile on his face but in the end he looked back up to mother Nyx with a curious gaze.

“What can he do?” Hypnos asked.

“We do not know yet.” mother Nyx answered easily and it made Hypnos frown.

“But he’s a god, so he has to be the god of something, no?” he sounded so confused and his obvious befuddlement forced mother Nyx to let out an amused sound.

“He surely is regent over something, my child, but sometimes it takes time for a god to come into their own or for others to notice their powers. For years I had not been sure what Charon should preside over until I, one day, found that the waters of the underworld rivers reach for him.” she explained, infinitely patient “I'm sure that, in time, Zagreus’ gift will reveal itself to us too.”

Hypnos nodded at that, seemingly satisfied with the answer – and for a moment all was quiet… until…

“Hey, Thanatos, don't you want to hold him too?” Hypnos suddenly called out for his brother and Thanatos – still standing stiffly and silently like a shadow at the very edges of the antechamber – flinched as if he had just been caught doing something untoward and now awaited swift and brutal punishment.

“I…” he started, opening and closing his mouth a few times – looking a little like a gupp that had been rejected by the water and now lay floundering on the stones of the temple Styx. He cleared his throat “I don't think that that would be a good idea.” he finally forced out. His arms were folded in front of his chest, creating a kind of barrier. He looked so uncomfortable, standing there, obviously on the verge of teleporting away.

“Oh come on!” Hypnos urged with his typical enthusiasm “It’s really easy. Mom or Charon can show you how to hold him.”

Thanatos’ jaw seemed to jump at that, his arms flexing as he pressed them tighter against his chest. For a moment Charon already imagined the loud popping noise that always accompanied Thanatos’ departure but, for some reason – likely because he didn't want to appear rude to mother Nyx – he finally unfolded his arms from around his chest.

He took one step, two and then he was in the air, floating over – more at ease in the air than on the ground, like most of mother Nyx’s children. He stopped a few inches away from their little family huddle, holding his arms in a mimic to Hypnos’ “Like so?” he asked, sounding extremely unsure, his expression showing his doubt and hesitation clearly.

Charon reached out gently, adjusting his brothers right arm a little higher so it formed the perfect cradle together with his left one – he nodded, giving an encouraging groan – and, as if that noise had been a start shot, Hypnos reached the baby over to his twin.

Thanatos was absolutely frozen, floating still like a stature, as if he was afraid Zagreus might bite at him or suddenly burst into flames.

It took a few long moments – during which all of them waited with bathed breath – until his stiff posture finally thawed. Thanatos changed his float, now with one knee bent slightly and the other leg dangling relaxed and straight downwards. Looking more at ease – nearly comfortable.

He raised his arms a little so the baby was resting higher against his chest and then craned his head slightly to get a better look, golden eyes fixed on Zagreus’ face, taking him in for the first time.

If Charon had to put a word to his younger brother’s expression he would probably settle on ‘besotted’. The last time Charon had seen that particular look on his face had been years and years ago, back when he and Hypnos had still been very young – he had rowed them up to the temple at night, holding both of them cradled against his chest, partially swaddled in his long robes to ward off the cold, as he had nodded upwards towards the sky and told them that the canvas of glittering stars and the bright moon was their mother’s doing.

Zagreus, as baby’s were wont to do, reached out curiously and clamped one chubby, small hand around a strand of Thanatos’ long hair – surprisingly enough he didn't pull, just held on, as if he wanted a kind of anchor.

“Whooooo.” Hypnos breathed quietly in wonder – and Charon had to silently agree with that sentiment. After all, it was so rare for Thanatos to genuinely smile.


	13. Decay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**This is the chapter with the blood and gore warning so proceed with caution!** _

Time was a force of nature on its own – with its sharp teeth, gnawing and gnawing until everything it touched was worn back down to dust. No matter how big or sturdy or expensive, nothing ever lasted forever. Decay was only traceable in its speed – how long it took to tear something apart. Sometimes it took longer and sometimes it went very fast indeed – so that it nearly felt like barely a blink of an eye had passed between glory and ruin.

Still, decay was the final form and before it took hold it was usually preluded by its herald – neglect.

And Charon saw a whole lot of neglect in the underworld as of late.

It was moving from the very bottom of the underworld upwards, patient and unperturbed and, most irritating, unstopped. The stone of Tartarus was slowly wearing down, tiny cracks forming here and there, the meadows of Asphodel looked pale and neglected and the blooming paradise of Elysium had become drape, the lush greenery slowly losing its lustre.

Even the temple of Styx was slowly wearing down – sure, there had never been a lot of worshippers, but by now the place was completely abandoned except for ever vigilant Cerberus and – every late afternoon when work brought him up – Charon himself. 

Demeter’s winter was gnawing on the outside and vermin were gnawing on the inside. At this point Charon had lost count of how many tiny rats and mouses that had accidentally lost their footing he had already fished from the rivers there – Acheron and Styx calling to him for aid, sometimes multiple times a day.

Charon watched all of it with a burning, sardonic glare but he had decided to hold his tongue for now. To simply take this in stride – at least for the moment. He was no fool and it was easy for him to trace the sudden neglect back to Queen Persephone leaving – and in some measure Zagreus’ appearance too.

Lord Hades, for all his many shortcomings had obviously loved his wife – he had bent to her, and listened to her opinion and judgment, never daring to raise his voice at her. Charon assumed the sudden loss of someone so dear would throw someone off for quite a while – so Charon was very willing indeed to give Lord Hades the benefit of the doubt here.

Especially since new chambers were still build – grand and beautiful like all others. It was simple that the Lord seemingly was forgetting about the maintenance of the old ones – a little like he was only concentrating on the big picture, on what had to be done to keep the underworld running for the moment.

And in doing so he overlooked all the tiny, ‘less important things’, the smaller parts that made the picture truly beautiful in the first place.

Normally Charon would count on his mother to pick up the slack in that regard, her keen eyes picking up on the slowly creeping neglect and moving to swiftly and efficiently counter it but…

… well, there were a few things Hypnos let slip from time to time, when they met up to talk a little – his younger brothers voice an uncharacteristic whisper, as if he was afraid someone might pop up right behind him at any moment. 

Charon would be a liar if he said he wasn't worried about some of the news he received.

From the pieces he had gathered from Hypnos’ talk so far it seemed like his mother was hit harder by Queen Persephone’s absence than he had first suspected. Now, Charon had always thought the two of them were close – and he had been happy for his mother, glad that she had seemingly finally found a true friend – and yet he hadn't thought that the Queen’s disappearance would take such a toll on her.

Mother Nyx had become more withdrawn, stepping back from a lot of the work of the house – seemingly taking a pause for her own sake, likely so she could come to terms with everything.

… Charon didn't want to go quite so far yet but… it did sound like she was acting an awful lot like she had all those centuries and centuries ago, back when she had still been so torn and disquiet, keeping distance to all her many children, the oldest, the ones that were mostly gone now – with the small exception of the three Fates and Charon himself.

Charon presumed it also didn't help that she had to mother the child of the woman she was currently mourning.

Fortunately it seemed that, at least in that last regard, Hypnos had stepped in to pick up the slack – as he often talked about taking care of Zagreus when mother Nyx wasn't around. And, surprisingly, Thanatos was chipping in too – even if he wasn't around as often because of his work. At this point it was just obvious that Thanatos had grown rather fond of his ‘brother’.

Equally surprising, though in a decidedly _**much less**_ positive way, was the fact that Lord Hades seemingly didn't pitch in at all and instead left most of the raising to mother Nyx and her two sons.

Now, to some extend Charon might actually be able to understand the situation. Yes, Zagreus was the child of the Queen that had ran away and had left Lord Hades stuck in the underworld alone, she had probably broken his heart by doing that and there likely was some form of resentment there… but Zagreus was still Lord Hades’ son – still his kin – and Charon found the thought of Lord Hades blaming a literal baby for the disappearance of his wife rather repulsive.

Zagreus certainly wasn't at fault here. He had done nothing except being born – and he hadn't even asked for that. After all, being born was not an active decision on the part of the child but instead something that was ‘forced’ onto them by their parents.

Now, Charon knew he probably did not have the full picture, since mother Nyx did not talk about anything that had happened – and she had made it quite clear that she never would – but at the same time Charon also felt that he didn't _**need**_ to have the full picture to know that pointing fingers at a newborn was just petulant and wrong.

Sadly he himself couldn't spend too much time with his ‘brother’ either, since the young god was mostly kept at the house – and maybe Charon wasn't _**explicitly**_ forbidden from entering, like Tisiphone or Alecto were, but he still made a point of staying away.

It might even be for the best, considering that he likely wouldn't be able to keep himself from telling Lord Hades exactly what he thought of his behaviour right to his face – and Queen Persephone, one of the few who had somehow managed to mediate between all of them with ease, was now gone and would not be able to keep the situation from blowing up and getting out of hand.

But all of that didn't mean that Charon didn't get to see his ‘little brother’ too from time to time. Because sometimes Hypnos brought Zagreus along to their regular meet-ups. It were just a few quick glimpses here and there and it made it seem like Zagreus was growing up in leaps and bounds – as if Charon was watching his development in a time lapse.

The rather rare meetings also put both Zagreus as well as he in an awkward spot language-wise. Sometimes Zagreus was able to pick up on what Charon wanted rather quickly but sometimes the things Charon was saying were just bouncing right off of him to the point where one of them had to call Hypnos over to translate for them. 

Charon wasn't holding it against his ‘brother’. They did see each other very seldomly and he wouldn't expect Zagreus to understand him perfectly just from a few short meetings every year. Zagreus liked him and tried his best and at the end of the day that was the most important part, Charon thought.

Both of them made it work somehow despite the language barrier. It simply was what it was.

His mind took a rather sardonic turn as he thought to himself that that was probably the motto of the entire house by now: ‘It is what it is’. Because from the things Hypnos sometimes said it seemed that the house was just that by now: a house… no longer a ‘home’ but instead nothing more than a structure that just so happened to house several people who seemingly tried very hard to never interact too much with one another if they could help it.

Now, Charon certainly wouldn't hold it against mother Nyx nor Lord Hades that both of them were seemingly emotionally compromised at the moment and therefore not at the top of their game – Charon wasn't some heartless monster after all, no matter what some might say.

And yet Charon also couldn't deny that all of this distantly reminded him of the stories Hermes had told him of Olympus. 

Was that what the underworld was coming to now? A bunch of gods who only grudgingly worked together because they _**had**_ to? Who just ignored problems in the nearly naive hope that they would simply disappear again? Each one of them pulling in a different direction until, one day in the far of future, they would rip the house apart between them?

It was a grim thought and Charon tried to put it out of his mind again just as quickly as it had initially appeared… but when he rowed up into the temple one day and immediately noticed the absence of Cerberus from his designated spot he felt something heavy and cold drop in his chest.

He raised his oar and hit the bell on his ferry to – unnecessarily – signal his arrival to absolutely no one. The water around his boat quivered for a second – two spouses joining their husband in his mourning.

#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+

Viciously thick plumes of smoke rose, glittering purple clouds, dense and choking. Charon couldn't really remember the last time he had burned with so much indignation, with true untempered fury. Around the temple the rivers quivered and sloshed, frothing and roaring, reaching over the edges and threatening to drown the entire place underneath them.

He was floating off the ground, swinging his oar in a wide arch – the gold-adorned bottom of it hitting dead on. A sickening crunch and a pained gurgle reverberated though the empty temple as the ribcage of the Satyr collapsed under the brutal strength of Charon's strike – splintered bones seemingly puncturing the lungs, if the stream of blood dripping out of the vile creatures mouth was any indication.

Hooves clopped as it staggered and finally collapsed and Charon advanced, full-up with wrath. He raised his oar up and slammed it down again – bones crunching, ligaments snapping – again – rasping gurgles stopping, breathing halting – again – a wet, sticky sound – again – revolting smacking noises, skin bursting and giving way under the force, popping open like an overripe fruit hitting the ground.

Again Charon swung – smearing blood and intestines over the cracked temple ground as if his oar was a brush and the floor was a canvas, painting everything in grotesque, metallic red. He was hissing, completely opaque curtains of smoke leaving his mouth along with deep, near feral growls. He knew he sounded like a vindictive, dried-up corpse bursting from its grave to wreak havoc on the living, but he didn't care!

Let this be a warning to all the vile vermin that had started to crawl between the crumbling temple walls, let this be an example to them all, so that they would know better from now on – so that they would know to stay as far away from the rivers of this realm as they could, and from Charon too.

A rumbling growl followed by another swing of his oar – bone crushed into fine dust and organs popping as they got mushed into paste.

“Woah now, I think that fellow there is quite dead already.”

Charon halted at that, his oar frozen in the air – already poised for another hit. A large, billowing plume of smoke rose from his mouth along with a dark growl as his burning will-o’-wisp of an eye moved from its left socket – staring at the pitiful remains of the Satyr – to its right socket – fixing on the god who had just appeared in the temple.

At his reaction Hermes only raised both of his hands in mock-surrender – foolishly unbothered by the wrathful chthonic god in front of him. Behind him his collected shades were quivering, trying to hide behind the god’s form in the hopes that Charon might not notice them.

Charon let out another deep growl and lowered himself back to the stone floor, his feet were leaving bloody footprints as he walked towards where his ferry was resting on the water – his layers and layers of robes fluttering around him, making him seem like nothing more than a black, vengeful wraith.

The waters calmed at his approach and Charon fell to his knees right at the edge where stone gave way to water. He plunged his right hand down without hesitation, right into the water – the arm of his robes immediately becoming soaked up to his shoulder.

His long, bony fingers finally found what they were searching for and with an angry jerk he yanked it up out of the water – and finally, _**finally**_ Acheron’s and Styx’s wailing in the back of his mind calmed again, the sharp desperate pull in his chest loosening again.

He pushed himself upwards and then threw what he had just fished out of the water onto the ground, it landed with a wet, dull wooden thunk and then rolled forward – closer to Hermes, who was still flying in the air not too far away.

A second passed in utter silence and then the god of swiftness gave a small chuckle – it sounded somewhat strangled, as if it had burst free without his agreement. He cleared his throat to mask it, the edges of his mouth trembling slightly – fighting a losing battle to remain serious.

Charon let out a warning growl and Hermes gave another soft cough – sobering as much as he could, though his voice was still a little high-pitched when he spoke; betraying his mirth “It’s just a wooden phallus.” the god of swiftness said as if all of this _**wasn't**_ a big deal.

Again Charon let out a growl, followed by an angry hiss – his feet leaving the ground again, lifting him into a float. Thick smoke was billowing from his mouth as if from a chimney, with his left hand – still holding his oar – he pointed towards the waters of the rivers. The motion was choppy and harsh, fuelled by barely restrained anger – blood was still dripping from the gold-adorned oar, along with splinters of bones and cracked teeth.

Charon did not care what vile or obscene things the Satyrs did in those tunnels they were slowing hallowing out in the temple. He did not care about any of it! Did not care about them destroying statures of Lord Hades or Cerberus! Did not care about them being constantly drunk! Did not care about them spitting everywhere! Did not care about the giant rats they brought! Did not care about the orgies they had! 

But he surely wouldn't stand idly by while they tried to defile _**his rivers**_! He wouldn't stand for them throwing garbage and dead, disease-ridden rats and now phalluses too into _**his precious rivers**_! This had been the very last straw! If they thought this was funny, some kind of hilarious joke, then Charon would be sure to show them _**exactly**_ what consequences their actions brought.

He would hunt down every single Satyr that even so much as _**breathed**_ into the direction of his rivers from now on out. If they ever dared to stick their heads out of their filthy tunnels again Charon would rend the flesh from their bones without hesitation and then throw their desecrated corpses back into their nests as a savage warning for all the rest.

Hermes followed the point of his oar and, after a moment, his brown eyes widened slightly in realization “Oh I see.” he breathed slowly “It’s not really about the phallus but that they threw it into the river.”

It was! And yet it wasn't! And Charon did not know how to explain it, how to make Hermes _**understand**_ what a _**travesty**_ all of this was. What a _**violation**_! That, to Charon, this act of disrespect was exactly like someone making a mockery out of his loved ones. Like someone spitting right into his mother’s face, like someone raising their hand against Hypnos, like someone throwing rocks at Thanatos.

There was _**no forgiveness**_ for these crimes, no laughing it off! The debt had to be paid in pain and blood and death! Payment in full! Nothing else would suffice!

Charon's breathing was louder and more wheezing than was normal, it echoed uncomfortably around the high chambers of the temple. His still pointed left arm shook with rage, he was bobbing up and down in the air – too enraged to remain in his usual stock-still float – curtains and curtains of smoke were billowing from both edges of his mouth. Drip-drop, drip-drop, blood and bone and teeth still dripping from his oar to the ground, leaving gruesome splatters on the stone – grotesque constellations.

Charon was barely able to hold onto his composure, hold onto his molten anger. He was sure he must look like something that had just burst free from the very deepest and darkest pits of Tartarus with destruction as its only goal… and yet Hermes’ expression suddenly gentled, turning sympathetic.

The god of swiftness drew closer – seemingly completely unafraid of Charon's unhinged appearance – he drew a half circle around the ferryman's bobbing form, coming to a halt behind him. Two small, warm hands brushed up from Charon's shoulder blades to his shoulders where they curled – holding on and giving hold at the same time.

“I can’t say I understand how that connection between you and those rivers of yours works but what I can tell is that they are very important to you and that you all obviously share some kind of bond. This must have been really awful for all of you and I'm sorry that it happened, really.” his voice was gentle and his words genuine.

And, slowly, Charon let his outstretched left arm sink again, clutched oar now pointing harmlessly to the ground. Hermes’ hands moved at that, brushing over Charon's shoulders, down, towards his chest until Hermes could wrap both his arms around his neck – a comforting embrace. The god of swiftness flew a little closer still, chest now pressing against Charon's back so he could hook his chin over Charon's right shoulder.

They remained like that for the longest time – stationary in the air.

“This place is a mess.” Hermes suddenly said, his tone low and strangely dark, maybe even a little saddened.

At that Charon only turned his head a little so he could rest his right temple against Hermes’ left. He raised his right hand, bony, ring-adorned fingers curling gently around one of the two arms wrapped around him – taking the comfort that was offered so selflessly. 

A second passed and then he let out a groan in agreement, squeezing his fingers slightly around Hermes’ arm. Yes, it was true, there was no denying it anymore – this place really was a mess.


	14. Mother Do You Hear?

“Oh, hey Charon, mate. Nice to see you around here.” it was Zagreus voice that made Charon look up slightly.

He was currently in Elysium, floating stationary beside his shop, selling his wares. It was very rare to see the prince of the underworld anywhere outside the house – especially now that he was more or less grown and Hypnos did no longer drag him along to the meet-ups he and Charon had from time to time.

Charon cocked his head slightly, a thin stream of smoke rising from his mouth. He let out a string of groans, asking what his ‘brother’ was doing here.

“Ah yes, hello to you too.” it sounded a little awkward and Charon let out a thick plume of slightly glittering smoke – something deep inside of him seemed to sink a little. So Zagreus, after all these years of sporadic, rare meet-ups, now seemed unable to understand his words at all – even the most simple of sentences, like an easy question about why he was here now bounced completely off of him.

Charon tilted his head slightly forward, his burning eye fixing on Zagreus and that motion alone made it obvious that the prince had ben caught out. There was a beat of embarrassed silence and then “Yeah, sorry about that.” Zagreus said, sounding regretful, maybe even a little ashamed. Another thick plume of smoke and then Charon simply shook his head.

He knew this wasn't because of ignorance or mean-spiritedness – having been raised mostly by mother Nyx and Charon's two younger brothers Zagreus had a softness about him that his Lord father lacked – and so Charon did not doubt the others honest regret.

And yet it was still a pity.

They stood around each other in silence – the shades of Elysium making a bow around them. Until, finally, Zagreus employed what most people employed when they tried to talk to Charon but couldn't understand him: Questions, clear ones, yes or no.

“I guess you’re surprised that I'm here, no?” Zagreus asked and Charon inclined his head, letting out a groan of agreement.

“Well, the diplomatic answer is that father wants me to be more involved in the happenings of the underworld and said I should inspect the state of Elysium.” he said as he walked towards the edge of the grassy ground.

He plopped himself down, feet dangling – and Charon extended his left arm, poking the hilt of his oar into Zagreus’ back demandingly.

“Yes, yes.” the prince laughed “No hanging my feet into Lethe, I know.” he said and actually scooted back a little so his flaming feet wouldn't accidentally touch the water. There was a beat of silence and Charon used the lull in conversation to touch down onto the ground and walk over to the other god.

He stopped beside him, his glowing purple eye moving from his right eye socket to his left – fixing on Zagreus for a moment – before returning back to his right one again – now looking out over Lethe’s gentle flow.

“The less diplomatic answer-” Zagreus finally continued, placing his hands behind himself so he could lean back a little “is that my father got tired of seeing me stand around the house and so he told me to go stand somewhere else. It weren't his exact words but I can read between the lines.” he let out a sigh and then gave up on any kind of muscle tension – simply flopping back into the soft grass of Elysium, back flat on the ground, arms slightly spread at his sides.

Another beat of silence – this one feeling contemplative, as if Zagreus didn't quite know if he wanted to continue talking or not.

In the end he decided on the former option “You know Charon, sometimes I feel like I just don't fit, or maybe like there is something missing that should connect us all.” he let out a weary sigh that made him sound many aeons older than he actually was. 

“I mean, aren't we all supposed to be a family? But father can’t stand my sight and, to be honest, at this point I'm not sure if I can stand his sight either – by now there is just always this angry burning just at the very edge whenever I talk with him. He is never satisfied with anything I do and I think maybe it is time to stop trying to met his expectations. If he is never happy then what even is the point? Might as well just do whatever I want then and at least make myself happy in the process.”

He sounded so very bitter and Charon's eye moved again, from his right socket to his left, locking on Zagreus. The prince had a dark expression on his face, spite and sad resignation mixed together. His jaw was jumping slightly, showing that he was clenching and unclenching his teeth in something that might not be anger just yet but would very soon bloom into it – Charon was sure about that.

“Thanatos is always gone and I know his work is important but it feels like I haven't seen him in years at this point, and Hypnos is just doing his own thing too – whatever that might be. Even you just float around out here because you can’t really come visit the house for whatever reason. Mother said you had a fight with father once and that you haven't really stepped foot in there since then. Guess he forbid you to enter just like Meg’s sisters.”

Well, not quite, Charon thought – but at this point it was futile to try and explain, especially without one of his younger brothers or his mother around to translate for him. Zagreus was close enough to the truth and so Charon simply remained silent.

Another beat of silence and then, quieter, a self-conscious near mumble “Sorry I'm dumping all of this on you just like this. You probably have your own problems to deal with.” Zagreus sounded actually regretful, ashamed that he was trying to reach out to someone – that he was burdening them with his problems.

At that Charon let out a thin curtain of smoke and then moved, flicking his robes slightly as he sank down onto the ground – now sitting on his haunches, kneeling beside Zagreus, his clothes fanning out around him in a black, gold-edged circle.

It was true, Charon had his own problems, like the fact that the soul influx – thanks to a war of Ares’ as Hermes had told him – was growing again and that he would, again, soon need a bigger ferry – he thought of maybe commissioning Daedalus himself this time around.

There was also the fact that the temple of Styx was crumbling all around Hermes and he when they conducted their business up there – exchanging souls. Then there was the fact that wares were increasingly harder to come by – especially the ones from up-world… a fact that Hermes was very keen to remind him of at every possible turn; banging on and on about it, often right before he tried to raise his own prices again – trying to get his small hands buried as deeply into Charon's coin pouches as possible.

Cerberus was gone from the temple – an invitation to all kinds of desperate pillagers and thieves as well as all sorts of vermin. And the rest of the underworld – even if it was much slower – was crumbling too. Charon's home was wasting away right around him despite everyone's best efforts.

So yes, it would be a lie to say that he didn't have his own problems to deal with… and yet he still rested his oar on his knees before he stretched his left hand out to bury his fingers into Zagreus’ coal hair.

He petted gently, because this too was his duty – a big brother was supposed to give aid or at the very least reassurance, he was supposed to listen and to try and understand… give something that Zagreus seemed to be sorely missing at home – sympathy, an open ear, understanding.

He was probably getting all of that from mother Nyx, Charon thought, but he also knew that his mother was very busy too and could not be around all the time – and what was left in her wake? Three brothers that were all pulled in different directions by their work or personal goals, a fury that had her own work to see to and a father that seemingly tried very hard to forget that he was supposed to be just that – a father.

Zagreus raised one of his arms and draped it over his face, hiding his expression in the inside of his elbow. Charon for his part just continued to rub soothing circles into the other gods hair. His gaze moved from his ‘brother’, landing on Lethe’s milky, calming waves.

He was sure all of it would be different if the Queen was still around – she had had such a fierce presence about her, a way of gentling Lord Hades, shrewd enough to find compromises between all of them, a way of speech that could shame any philosopher.

Charon was sure she would be able to mediate between all of them, unyielding and bold enough to face Lord Hades at his most unreasonable and yet also gentle enough to not break important ties and bonds. She had been a weaver in her own right, making sure they were all connected even with their vastly different personalities. Charon just knew she would have been able to fill that seemingly bottomless chasm between Lord Hades and Zagreus too.

…

But that ferry had sailed a long time ago – and Charon knew, because he had been rowing it himself.

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“I think the ice will soon break the stone apart here.” Hermes commented and it made Charon look up from where he was collecting coin from the shades that wanted to board his ferry. He stowed his already collected coins away and then raised his right hand in a ‘wait’-gesture, which made the shades stop.

He took a few steps forward – the rest of the shades parting around him – and then he rose in a float, lifting up to where Hermes was flying just under the ceiling of the temple. He joined the other god, raising his right hand to where Hermes was pointing and, sure enough, there was a small crack that felt wet to the touch.

The heat of the candles around the temple rising up, melting ice into water only for that water to refreeze and then melt again – over and over – until it finally managed to seep into every nook and cranny and from there force the very stone apart.

Charon let out a thick, concerned cloud of smoke. He had already talked about the decay of the temple, had mentioned it to both Hypnos as well as his mother, but nothing had been done about it since then.

If Lord Hades continued to ignore these problems in favour of planning for more rooms and chambers to stow all the new masses of shades in Tartarus and Asphodel then the temple would soon collapse on top of all their heads.

And then what? Was he supposed to meet Hermes on top of a pile of Satyr overrun rubble? Out in the open where a thick layer of icy snow covered everything like a stifling blanket?

Another thick, displeased plume of smoke rose as Charon felled a decision. Fine, he would go looking for Daedalus and a handful of skilled stone masons on his own accord. He would order them to, at the very least, fix the roof up and then he would pay the expense of it from his own money if he had to.

And maybe – and ‘maybe’ in this case meant ‘definitely’ – he would write a sharply worded bill to Lord Hades too after he was done – just for good measure – demanding every last coin of his expenses back. And if the Lord had a problem with that then he could try and talk it out with Charon personally.

He was ripped from his somewhat vindictive thoughts as he felt a gentle hand landing on his left shoulder and he turned his head to see Hermes shooting him an encouraging grin. Charon on his part only inclined his head slightly, raising his free right hand, arm crossing over his chest so he could place his own hand on top of Hermes’ right on his shoulder.

Hermes’ hand was warm – as always – and his supportive presence was an unexpected yet not unwelcome comfort. No matter what went on in the house Charon felt that – in Hermes – he had at the very least _**one**_ person on his side.

His ring-adorned fingers curled slightly, squeezing Hermes’ hand in his and the move made the god of swiftness smile, his brown eyes sparking, gleaming with an emotion that Charon couldn't quite name.

Charon was so caught up in trying to put a name to what he saw in the other gods eyes that he nearly startled when he felt the sudden brush of warm breath over his face – displacing his ever billowing smoke a little. The loose thing in his chest seemed to rattle. 

Had Hermes face been this close to him the whole time and he hadn't noticed until now or had…

A sudden loud noise made Charon jerk around, his hand dropping back to his side as he pulled away from the other gods touch – his palm immediately losing the heat he had stolen from Hermes. His left hand clutching his oar tighter.

Down on the temple floor the few shades that still wanted to board had begun a scuffle – some of them trying to cut the line. Which was absolutely ridiculous behaviour. Charon took all of them as long as they paid – it did not matter if they were first in line or last.

A thick and annoyed plume of smoke rose from the edges of his mouth as he descended downwards again – leaving Hermes – to break up the fight. If Charon could he would probably roll his eye at the senseless display. Mortals, he thought with a scoff and a head shake.

#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+

Charon was floating in Asphodel, eye watching the sad display below him.

The warning signs had all been there – and Charon had pointed it out to Hypnos and his mother time and time again, expecting that at least _**some**_ safety measures would be implemented… but no.

A thick plume of resigned smoke left his mouth as he floated around the chamber – too cautious to actually touch the ground. The meadows of Asphodel hadn't looked quite right since Queen Persephone had left, yes, but they had still been green and thick… and now they were nothing more than a burning inferno.

Flames licking and devouring everything as Phlegethon turned from flaming water into actual magma. Charon heard his voice in the back of his mind – shifting, morphing slightly, nearly gaining some new character now that he was changing like this, an echo, like two people speaking at once.

At the very least it wasn't painful for Phlegethon, just strange – an indescribable experience. If the change had actually hurt Phlegethon Charon wasn't sure what he would have done; after all, even he was powerless against such forces. He would likely have been left standing alone and helpless as Phlegethon wailed for aid that Charon wouldn't have been able to provide.

… Charon was sure that it would have broken something apart deep inside of him. Likely it would have driven him mad with grief and pain.

He watched in silence as the grass turned into black soot and the ground cracked open to bleed magma, scorching everything in its path.

He suddenly felt a soft pull in his chest, Phlegethon’s still unfamiliar twin-voices calling for him – for a second Charon hesitated but then he floated down, hovering over the magma-waves. Another gentle chime in his chest and he bent slightly, reaching his hand down and, before long, it connected with the magma.

The touch was hot… but surprisingly not painfully so – and so Charon gently brushed his fingers through the magma. In the back of his mind he could hear Phlegethon’s satisfaction at all of it – how pride-filled he was that he had managed to prove to Charon that he was still as devout as ever. His fires hadn't burned and his magma wouldn't burn either – it was an oath.

Charon let out a near coo-like noise at that. Phlegethon and he would need to reacquaint themselves now that so much had changed, sure, but their bond was still unbroken. It was a true relieve – since Charon had worried about that, about their connection and if it would change now that Phlegethon was so changed.

But no, it was still there, sturdy in his chest and at the back of his mind – faithful, always, always, forever. The words repeating and repeating like renewed wedding vows in Phlegethon’s new echoing voice.

The magma stuck to Charon's fingers a little – as if it tried to pull at him, to squeeze gently. It reminded him of Styx and her reaching hands. And for the longest time he simply remained, brushing his right hand through the magma – a soothing caress, a reaffirmation and a promise – as around him Asphodel burned down to the very ground. Shades wailing and crying in fear all around him.

Non of this could not go on like this, Charon thought bitterly and he felt Phlegethon rise up around him a little in agreement.

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“It is rare indeed for you to specifically search me out, my child.” mother Nyx said, making it obvious that she had long since noticed Charon's presence. She turned around in her float, one hand hanging relaxed at her side, the other one bent upwards at the elbow, fingers slightly curled.

The molten gold of her eyes fixed on Charon – and in that moment they both knew what was going to happen… and yet they both still followed the steps of this familiar dance.

Charon raised his right hand, tipping his hat in greeting before he took a few more steps closer – though he stopped a respectable distance away from his mother, giving both of them their space.

“ _Mother._ ” he finally said, the word a familiar, low groan “ _You know I do not make a habit of questioning the happenings around the house; that I would never doubt your decisions and wishes._ ” his feet were slowly leaving the ground in an unconscious float “ _But even you must see that non of this can continue in the way it has until now. We need a change or else this house will soon crumble into dust._ ”

There was a beat of silence as they both stared at one another. And finally mother Nyx let her raised arm sink, both her hands moving to fold in front of her lap “I know, my child. I know.” she said, her voice lower than normal.

Charon floated a little closer to his mother, slightly bending his towering form a bit as he did so – non-threatening and reassuring all at once “ _Command me and I shall follow your order._ ” he urged.

For a few heartbeats all was quiet as mother Nyx’s eyes flickered between Charon's single glowing one and the stream of his smoke, reading his ‘expression’ effortlessly – his eagerness to _**force**_ change if nothing else worked. 

“No, my child.” she said with finality. Her words were followed by a few seconds of silence before she continued “But rest assured that I will look to it that this house does not degrade further.”

It had not been the answer that Charon had expected – and he was sure mother Nyx was able to read it in the stutter of his purple smoke – but after a moment he drew back again and then inclined his head. Accepting his mother’s decision. Trusting that she only wanted the best for the house – just like he did. Even if non of this seemed to sit right with him.


	15. Do You Remember?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Very short mention of character death, it’s just hypothetical but still.** _

He was floating stiffly, nothing moving except the ever present billow of glittering smoke rising from the edges of his mouth. At the far wall was a crack. A small one. He had been staring at it for… he did not even know anymore.

He hadn't checked the reflection on the water in what felt like years – did it really matter what time of day it was? It didn't. Not really. He was here and he was waiting. Waiting for something. He was punctual. Actually he was very early. He was waiting. Had been waiting for a long time now.

Waiting for someone who needed his services, who wanted to board his ferry. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen Philotes, with her black hair like expensive silken sheer fabric and her warm golden eyes and her gentle smile and soft touches.

She had never understood his words but she had been kind, unlike so many of their siblings. She had sometimes come to talk to him, her hair floating around her head like mother’s. She had left too now, one of the very last.

And now he was waiting. Only his mother was still here and his three sister Fates. But they never left their large chambers, never left their weave and spindles and spinning wheels. Klotho and Lachesis and Atropos were always busy. Charon hadn't seen them since they all had still been children. He did not even know what they looked like now – grown goddesses, mighty beyond comprehension.

And his mother could simply think herself wherever she wanted to go with her gift of teleportation. Night did not need a ferry. And so Charon waited. Styx lapping behind him, her soothing waves the only sound he had heard in years, her pull in his chest the only thing that kept him up – as if she was a gentle puppetmaster who did not want her most-beloved to fall to the cracking ground like a broken toy.

What was he waiting for? He was waiting for someone to come wasn't he? But no one would come. He was punctual and he was waiting. The crack was spreading on the wall, the only movement beside Styx’s waters that Charon had seen in… in however long it had been since Philotes had left.

When had Philotes asked for him to take her upwards? With that rueful, sad look in her golden eyes? He did not know anymore. A century? Two? Three? Time tended to lose meaning for a god at some point and Charon did not care to look at the light-reflections on Styx, did not care to count the days. It would be a waste of time. It did not matter.

His chest felt empty except for Styx’s presence. His mind was sluggish. He only knew he was waiting. Always. Faithful. It was his duty. It was what he was made for. His purpose, his very being, was it not? Was there something else too?

Charon did not feel like exploring that thought. His mind numb as if it was filled with cotton. It did not matter, did it? Even if there was something else to his existence it wasn't like he would be able to act on it. He was bound to this realm and this realm was empty and he was waiting for no one to come and his only companion was his faithful wife, her blood-red waters lapping behind him, her presence so soothing, she was holding onto him like Charon was holding onto his last remaining shred of sanity.

He only knew that he was waiting and…

“Hey! Hey come on. Please!” a concerned voice suddenly broke through. It did not belong in this realm. It did not sound like any of his siblings, did not sound like mother or father, did not sound like his spouses. Was he waiting for that voice? Was it the reason that Charon was still floating here?

“Hey Charon?!” it sounded nearly panicked at this point – a warm hand suddenly gripped his shoulder. Warm, warm – even warmer than Hemera had been. Fingers curling and digging in as if they were afraid Charon might crumble into dust and slip away any second now.

The unexpected heat shock jolted through Charon, made his stiff muscles tense and relax again as he turned his stiff, creaking neck so his listlessly glowing eye could move away from the crack in the wall and instead follow that voice and touch.

“Hey there.” it was a gentle coo. Hermes’ worried face coming slowly into focus. Charon drew in a loud wheezing breath, feeling as if he had just been woken up from an aeons long slumber. He wasn't in Tartarus, he was in the temple. He wasn't waiting for any of his siblings he was waiting for Hermes’ daily arrival. Yes, yes. He remembered. He remembered!

A thick plume of smoke rose as Charon let out a slow groan, finally returning to the present, his mind resurfacing from whatever dark place it had retreated into until now. He had been back, had been back all those centuries and centuries ago, long before Thanatos and Hypnos had been born. Long before mortals had begun to walk the earth. Long before his mother had decided to build a glorious realm for the souls of the departed.

A glorious realm that was still slowly crumbling all around him.

Charon slowly shook his head – shaking off the last fleeting remnants of this waking nightmare he had had. And then he settled his gaze back on Hermes.

The other god was still holding onto him – clutching really, his warm fingers digging in nearly painfully. His brows were furrowed, pulled low. His lips thin and bloodless, pressed together. His jaw standing out starkly. His warm brown eyes were fixed on Charon, unblinkingly – as if Hermes thought he might vanish like a mirage any second now.

“Are you with me?” Hermes asked, his voice thick and unsure. Charon had never heard it like that. He sounded scared out of his mind and that realization made something twist painfully in Charon's chest.

He had not wanted to worry the other god. He did not really know what had suddenly gotten into him. How long had Hermes already been here? How long had he watched Charon? How long had he tried to talk to him only to be met with absolute silence and a gormless, empty stare?

Charon let out a low groan in affirmation, inclining his head a little as he raised his right hand so he could curl his ring-adorned fingers around Hermes’ still clawing one. He squeezed in reassurance and finally Hermes’ hold on him relaxed a little.

A warm thumb brushed up and down over Charon's robes – heat bleeding through, even with all the layers he wore, sinking deep into his skin. It was a caress and Charon suspected that, at this point, it was meant more to sooth Hermes himself than to calm Charon. 

“Oh thank all gods above and below.” Hermes breathed out, his tensed shoulders dropping a little, his eyes closing briefly in relieve. He opened them again a moment later “What was that just now? Are you alright?”

The smoke billowing from Charon's mouth stuttered a little as he mentally stumbled over the first of those two questions. How could he possibly explain what had just happened to Hermes? That Charon felt as if this entire realm was ripping apart at the seams and that all of it had taken him back to the last time that that had happened? That he felt as if he couldn't do anything? That his mother refused to act for some reason that was her own? That he had been thinking about Queen Persephone and Zagreus for days now? That he was at a loss? That he felt burdened – as if someone had wrapped stones around him only to then throw him into one of his rivers?

He couldn't. That was the answer. He couldn't explain and he couldn't tell – non of it, for fear of what might come of it. He had to bite his tongue and just do his duty… like all those aeons back.

… Another wheezing breath and then Charon let out a long groan – choosing to ignore the first question and instead only answer the second one. Yes, he was alright. At least for the moment.

Hermes’ keen eyes became doubtful, his lips curling slightly downwards. For a moment it was quiet and Hermes took that time to pull his hand back – he did not go far though, instead beginning to fly tight circles around Charon's floating form.

His shins and arms brushing against Charon even more often than they usually did “You’ve been really absent, thought-wise I mean-” the god of swiftness finally started, words blunt but tone worried “thought maybe it would fix itself over time, but it only seems to be getting worse, would be a fool not to notice it after all this time being professional associates.” Hermes was rambling, never stopping his circling – round and round, fingers stroking against Charon's robes, flutter of his wings drifting over gold-edged black.

Charon felt strangely caught – pinned. A rock and a hard place, that was what mortals tended to say, no?

On one hand he wanted to talk to Hermes, put the other god at ease, explain himself, unload some of the heavy thoughts that had been churning in his head for days and days on end now… but on the other hand most of what bothered Charon were secrets that he had to keep at any cost.

He had already tried to reach out and his mother had rebuked him… so really, what else was left to him but to remain mute? Float mindlessly in the temple, watching the cracks grow every day. Maybe the stone around him would finally crumble at some point. And wouldn't that be ironic? Indirectly being killed by the neglect that this realm had to endure? 

Stone and ice raining down, snapping his bony limbs like twigs, cracking his chest open so all his chthonic mist would be free to rise upwards into nothingness to finally dissolve in the open air. Entombed and buried until Styx would scoop him up gently, cradle his broken, twisted body and carry him downwards back to the house that he never wanted to visit again.

At least Hypnos would probably get a kick out of it, he thought sardonically. He could already hear his brother’s quippish voice in his mind: _Oh hey Charon. Says here that you got crushed to death by a pile of rubble. Have you ever tried, you know, stepping aside before it hits you?_

It would be his very first death too – so he assumed it would also throw Thanatos into quite a tissy – make him appear just so he could chide Charon for not being careful enough. That special kind of offended, angry worry that he was famous for. ‘You should take better care!’ translating into ‘I always worry, so please stay safe from now on.’

If Charon could close his eye in exhaustion he would have done so in that very moment, but instead he simply let out a dismissive groan as another thick plume of smoke rose from his mouth. His free right hand moving in the air – waving Hermes away.

He was tired, feeling all his many, many years and he did not want to discuss something he could not discuss in the first place. It was best for Hermes and he if they just put everything that had happened today out of their minds again and simply moved on as they always had. 

… Just ignore it until it went away or until it came back with a vengeance to destroy all their lives – since that was seemingly the new motto of the house, Charon thought bitterly.

His brusque reaction didn't dissuade Hermes in the least – Hermes had never really minded any of Charon's moods, even when the boatman had been at his most wrath-filled. The god of swiftness drew another two circles before he came to a stop behind Charon, putting his hands on his shoulders in a by now familiar motion, warmth immediately seeping through.

“Come on, you know you can talk to me, you know, might even be able to help you, two great minds like ours surely are able to find a solution to every kind of problem.” he urged softly, his hands starting up a massage, thumbs pressing into tense muscles, coaxing hard knots into relaxation.

And for a moment Charon simply let it happen – let himself be soothed. Hermes’ calming touch seemed nearly hauntingly familiar to the way the waters of the underworld rivers reached for him whenever they felt his disquiet and tried to comfort him. Familiar like Styx’s devout company all those aeons back in the depths of Tartarus.

Seconds passed, turning into minutes, yet Hermes remained uncommonly patient, flying behind Charon, his hands massaging coiled muscles – trying to loosen them again. It was probably a testament to how worried Hermes had been that he was willing to stay still for so long.

‘I mean, aren't we all supposed to be a family?’ - Zagreus’ bitter voice suddenly reverberated in Charon's mind, bouncing back and forth and back and forth, over and over again. A haunting echo. 

And as he remembered that particular conversation the smoke curling from his mouth stuttered slightly, chocked momentarily by familiar, acidic anger. At this point Charon found that he had to agree with his ‘younger brother’s’ bitterness. It was true, wasn't it? Even if they weren't all necessarily bound by blood, shouldn't they be a family anyway – bound by a shared purpose? Common goals?

They were all stuck here and yet they all only went through the motions while everything they should _**actually care about**_ crumbled away around them. Faithfully doing their duty without ever asking if it truly was the right course of action. Losing themselves along the way.

Set in their ways – as gods tended to become in the endless time of their existence. Resisting any form of self-reflection. So convinced that they were in the right that it didn't even occur to any of them that they might, in fact, not be. 

And at the end of the day wasn't that what made Olympus such a cesspool of vindictive anger and family feuds? Was Olympus at this point nothing more than a herald of what would happen to the underworld too?

A thick plume of smoke burst from the edges of his mouth and finally movement seemed to return to Charon. He turned his head slightly to the side so he could look at Hermes – Hermes, who felt more comfortable around a chthonic god sporting the face of an old corpse than around his own relatives.

Would this happen to him too? Would he one day realize that he had grown resentful and that he would rather spent time with anyone else than with his own mother or brothers? Was that what they all were heading towards?

… 

Some of Charon's quickly flaring anger dulled again a moment later, replaced by tired resignation. 

What did these thoughts of his change? Nothing, really. Even if he didn't want any of that to happen, his will alone wasn't enough to turn the tide. If words didn't work then there really was nothing else for him left to do. In the end he was simply doomed to stand around and watch everything unfold. Since actually raising his hand here and trying to rebel – trying to force change – was not only senseless but stupid too.

Yes, he might be old and vastly powerful but at the end of the day he was only one single god. And even if his connections to the underworld were strong – his devoted bond with his rivers, the way he could summon darkness and his brute strength making him a formidable foe indeed – even as far down as Erebus, in his father’s misty realm, where he was undoubtedly at his strongest… even then he would hit his limits eventually. 

How long could he _**reasonably**_ sustain a fight against his two brothers – maybe even his three remaining sisters too, though the Fates usually weren't known to get directly involved in things – three furies, two Olympians – if you included Zagreus in that count – and every wretch Lord Hades would be able to summon? Especially when even Night herself seemed to disregard his urging and would likely side against him?

Charon might be able to buy a few wretches for himself – coin still holding an allure for many shades even after death – but even his pockets weren't bottomless.

It was clear that he would need more than that.

His gaze was still fixed on Hermes who was still uncommonly patiently waiting. Maybe, he thought, maybe he would be able to get Hermes involved. He did not know how much Hermes might care for his family situation, but Charon would indeed bet coin on the fact that Hermes cared about _**him personally**_. So maybe he could be persuaded to help simply because of their friendship.

… But even if he got Hermes’ help too, he doubted that that would be enough either. Hermes was clever and quick, yes, but he certainly wasn't a god known for his martial prowess.

So even together they would likely still need more and where would they get that ‘more’ from? Olympus? Pah! Hermes had made it quite clear that he tried to stay far away from his family – so there was no reason to believe that they would answer a call from him. And Charon? He was just some random chthonic deity – in the eyes of Olympus he wasn't worthy of much, if any, attention at all.

Beside, the Olympians were so caught up in their own petty squabbles they would never work together except if a common goal bound them – and what common goal could he shake from his sleeve that, miraculously, would get everyone's attention?

They did not care about the well-being of the underworld – arguably they seemingly didn't even care for Lord Hades who was one of their own. So trying either of those angles was out of the question.

Jumping off of his thought about Hermes and Lord Hades Charon wondered if _**any**_ kind of family-based argument would ever work – after all, there was so much bad blood between all of them, fostered over centuries and centuries. So even getting a small group of them to agree to one thing seemed indeed very unlikely.

… Another thick plume of annoyed smoke suddenly puffed up. Just look at all of this, Charon thought bitterly, was he _**actually**_ thinking about committing treason and getting the Olympians involved in all of that too? Was he truly already that desperate and lost?

He didn't even want the Lord title, he did not want to _**fight**_ his mother or his siblings – to be honest the thought made him feel rather nauseous. All he truly wanted was to metaphorically shake everyone until they finally woke up again, until they realized that they had to work towards a shared goal if they wanted to make sure that this realm would flourish and prosper. He wanted all of them to grow back together and not farther apart.

Again Charon felt Queen Persephone’s absence keenly. He had a feeling he might have been able to simply grab Hypnos as a translator and then just walk up to her to discuss all of this. Then again, Charon thought that it probably wouldn't even have come this far if she had been around all this time.

Zagreus had said it too hadn't he? That he felt like something was missing down here. He had not even known his mother and yet even he felt her absence.

Not for the first time Charon wondered what might have happened. With the Queen and Lord Hades, with Zagreus and mother Nyx too. Was all of it truly so unspeakable and horrible that they couldn't find a middle-ground between them again? Was this bridge going to be broken forever?

_**Just ignore it until it goes away.** _

Another thick puff of smoke and another sharp flare of anger.

_**Just ignore it until it goes away**_ – that wasn't a way to deal with ones problems. In fact, it often only lead to more problems. Whatever might have happened between Queen Persephone, Lord Hades and mother Nyx it was causing ripples. Ripples and ripples that affected everything in the underworld.

From the maintenance of the realm to the very relationships they all had with each other – and Zagreus was hit hardest by that latter problem. No one telling him his true heritage, enduring his father’s petulant wrath, feeling like a third wheel in his own home.

A resigned cloud of smoke rose up. If only Charon could somehow find the Queen and talk to her – she had been clever, reasonable and sensible – they might actually be able to work something out that would help all of them.

…. But only mother Nyx knew where she was – and she certainly wouldn't tell. When mother Nyx swore to keep a secret than it was an oath for all eternity. She would breath a word about it to anyone…

The rising smoke suddenly cut off.

Well, there had always been an exception to that rule, Charon knew – having been raised between a bunch of sibling who often times had problems with each other. The exception was that mother Nyx could sometimes be persuaded to talk if she thought one person was directly involved and it would be unfair to lie to them.

Now Charon certainly wasn't involved, he was nothing but a bystander. Lord Hades probably already knew of everything. But Zagreus… did he not deserve to know the truth? To know who had birthed him?

If he asked then Charon was sure mother Nyx would not deny his questions. Of course he would have to know of Queen Persephone first but Charon was sure that in a house as big as theirs there had to be something that at the very least hinted at her. All that had to happen was Zagreus finding that one small hint.

If Charon could somehow get that to happen, if he could just poke at that first tiny pebble, get it to move just the tiniest bit, then maybe it would finally cause the landslide they all desperately needed down here.

Now all he needed was a plan to get that pebble moving – which was easier said than done. Charon might be clever but he certainly wasn't a schemer… 

… but Charon knew someone who was.

Warm hands were still rubbing over his shoulders, Hermes’ face relaxed – but underneath that nearly serene exterior was a mischievous, cunning trickster.

Charon suddenly uncurled his left hand – his oar now floating in the air – and turned. He grabbed at one of Hermes hands with both of his. Right hand clasping around the palm and left hand covering the knuckles.

The sudden movement seemed to startle the god of swiftness a little, his brown eyes raising to Charon's face questioningly. Charon just squeezed his grip gently, pulling Hermes a little closer to himself with his hold.

“ _If you find the time_ -” Charon said, knowing that Hermes would actually understand his groans “ _I would ask that you return here. I would like to speak with you_.”

Hermes blinked in befuddlement once but then a smile stretched over his face – it looked very pleased, he was likely feeling prideful at the thought that he, supposedly, had gotten Charon to cave to him “Sure thing, have to make a few more deliveries still but after I'm done I’ll stop by here again.” he agreed easily and Charon squeezed his hand again, showing his clear gratitude.

This might actually work, Charon thought, his thumbs rubbing absent-mindedly back and forth over the warm skin of Hermes’ hand in his. This might actually work!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have to vent about the fact that chapter 15 (and 16 since I split them since it was getting too long) was an absolute nightmare to revise. I revised it like three times until I finally got to a point where I was somewhat happy with the explanations and thought-process here. It changed so much that I actually subsequentially had to change some of the rest of the plot and the scenes of this fic just so it made sense. I mean, I'm used to my fics changing a little during revision – gaining another flair and feel – but this was… a lot. If anything in here seems slightly janky or weird pace-wise then that is the reason.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading <3 I hope this made sense and wasn't too weird to read.


	16. Secrets

Hermes was fluttering around the large open space curiously, his eyes flickering from one pile of gold to the next “Now that is quite the hoard, it’s the biggest one I have ever seen in fact, could raise an entire human army with that kind of coin, run down empires if you had a mind for it.” he said, running his mouth in that familiar way of his.

“Big platform here, looks nearly like an arena or something.” he continued, flying over it, eyes drawn to the golden vases decorating the space. Charon let out a few puffs of smoke at that – they clearly betrayed his chuckle “No way, it’s really for fighting?”

At that Charon simply shrugged one shoulder – there were enough shades that thought they could get an edge on him, thieving fingers reaching for his goods, souls trying to escape his boat. Sometimes he just had to teach some specific shades a lesson because violence was seemingly the only language they actually understood.

Hermes let out a hearty laugh at his mute answer and simply continued in his exploration “Oh wow, even the water is full with piles of coin, guess you don't have to worry about the currents washing those away with the way you and those rivers work.”

Here Charon only nodded – in fact, his rivers actually carried precious trinkets or dropped coins towards this place; showing their devotion by delivering small presents like that. 

A few flaps of wings later and Hermes had reached one of the far walls, he drew to a stop in front of the shelves that stood there. He reached forward and simply pulled out a roll of parchment, acting as if he owned the place – Charon simply floated after the other god. Let him have his fun, Charon thought, feeling indulgent. He knew he wouldn't let anyone else do something this bold – yet he found he didn't mind with Hermes.

“Oh, payment contracts.” Hermes noted, placing the parchment back only to pull out a new one “Billings.” again he replaced it and pulled free another one “Employment of services… oh that one is about fixing the roof of the temple up, actually wondered where that crack had gone, guess you’re to thank for that then.” He replaced the third scroll too before he continued, fingers brushing against cloth that was peaking out of chests that were so full the lids wouldn't close anymore.

“This one is sheer, very fancy – guess some pampered, spoiled princes and kings in Elysium would pay good coin for cloth like that.” he said but then stopped, a sly grin suddenly appearing on his face “Would you look at that?” he sing-songed, flying towards the crates close by.

He pulled out one of the stowed bottles “Ambrosia! Now where could you possibly have gotten these amounts of expensive Ambrosia from? Well, guess it will forever remain a mystery.” he chuckled as he placed the bottle back into its place.

Finally he seemed to tire of his exploration. He drew closer to Charon again, circling around him a few times in that playful way of his “So, why did you bring me to your inner most sanctuary anyway? I mean, not that I'm not flattered, it certainly is a merchants dream, but I assume there is a reason beside showing-off, since you have been acting so strange as of late you know.”

Charon nodded at that and then weaved around Hermes’ circling form to float over the flow of Styx and to the left side of the room, there, hidden behind a thick and expensive purple curtain, was a small archway.

He reached out with his free right hand and grabbed the drape at the edge, pulling it back to reveal the path. He gave a soft groan, telling Hermes to follow him, before he floated past the curtain and into his chambers.

It took barely a second before the curtain moved again with a soft swish of fabric, signalling that Hermes had indeed followed. A beat of silence and then “Very cosy here.” the god of swiftness commented as he fluttered around the room, touching the gold embroidered purple curtains that swooped from the ceiling.

Charon lowered himself from his float, feet touching the expensive rug that padded the ground. He walked across his chamber, past a carved wooden display case that held several priceless trinkets, small carved gems or marble statures and chalices.

As he reached the gold-adorned wooden table in the corner he gathered some of his robes – so they wouldn't tangle or snare – and then sank down on one of the padded chairs. His hands loosened their hold and his robes fanned out around him as much as they could.

He waved his hand, indicating the second chair to Hermes – who was currently busy looking at a painting on the far wall. The god of swiftness caught his movement out of the corner of his eyes, he threw one last look at the painting and then flew over to Charon “Have I already mentioned that this place looks like the wildest, most unrealistic fantasies of a merchant prince?” he quipped, a grin on his face “And you tell me that you can’t pay more than 1300 for a bottle of Ambrosia. As if you are close to bankruptcy.”

He finally sat down on the free chair, the two wings growing from his head still flapping a few times as if they weren't quite used to being still – it took a moment but then they folded in, tucking themselves against the side of Hermes head as if they had just noticed that they didn't need to beat anymore.

“So, what do you want to tell me?” Hermes said, leaning back in the chair – nearly lounging – seemingly completely at ease in Charon's private domain.

Charon had thought about that particular question the whole day now. At first he had considered only telling the most necessary parts but for some reason the thought of lying – well, lying by omission in this case – to Hermes just didn't sit quite right with Charon.

Maybe he was a fool for it but he trusted Hermes – trickster god or not. They had worked alongside each other for a long time now and Charon liked to think that he had a good handle on Hermes’ character and some of his motivations.

Hermes might not care about a lot of things but the few things he actually cared about? Oh, he could be zealous and stubborn, like a starving predator who had just dug his teeth into the first fresh prey he had for weeks.

And thinking back to all the times in the past that Hermes had brought gifts, or offered comfort and warm words when he didn't have to Charon was rather certain that he counted among the few things Hermes cared about… just in the same way Hermes counted among the few things and people that Charon truly cared about. 

They had grown close like that. Comfortable and familiar around each other. And – if Charon was absolutely honest – he sometimes felt more at ease around Hermes than even around his own family. Though the feeling was hard to grasp and even harder to describe, it often slipped through Charon's fingers, an unfamiliar texture at the back of his mind that distantly reminded him of his connection with his rivers.

And so, with all of that in mind, he had decided to just be open about everything, to just start at the beginning and then see how it would go – how the conversation would progress and how Hermes would react. No lies, no omission. Beside, Charon assumed that trying to lie wouldn't work anyway, since Hermes had figured out most of his tells by now.

Charon had never much cared to try and hide his reactions – meaning the intensity with which the chthonic mist billowed from his mouth evermore – since most couldn't read it anyway and did not care to learn either. Of course that had the obvious drawback that the people who actually knew what to look for could read him like a book.

And Hermes had been paying so much attention over all the years – taking the time to learn Charon's tells and even his ‘language’. So it would likely be very easy indeed for him to pick up on when Charon consciously left things out.

A soft drumming noise caught his attention – Hermes had started tapping his fingers onto the table top. It seemed like an unconscious motion born from the unfamiliarity of remaining still. Sitting at a table, wings folded in, waiting.

Well, no sense wasting both their time, Charon thought. He let out a low groan – catching Hermes’ wandering attention again – and then started to explain.

He talked about the way the underworld was slowly coming apart at the seams, how his family had started to drift – each one beholden only to their own troubles, how he thought that a change needed to happen rather sooner than later and how he was willing to brute force it if he had to… and finally, that he needed a little help with planning if all of this was to work out properly.

Hermes, during the whole explanation, had put his right elbow on the table so he could rest his chin in his open palm. He let out a hum at the end of Charon's speech.

“So, let me just get this straight here, now you, my dearest professional associate, plan to go behind the back of every god and other being down here to get the underworld and your whole family situation back in order and you want my help doing so?”

Charon nodded and Hermes let out another hum, this one very thoughtful “Now, I'm always up for a good scheme, getting the best price you know, nothing like a secret plan that gets you everything you want and more at the end. So, I just want to make sure that you know that I'm not really opposed to the entire ‘tricking the whole underworld’ bit, in fact, am rather intrigued at the prospect, haven't done something this big in forever, and it’s rather flattering that you thought to include me there, but you do realize I'm not pops, I can’t throw lightning bolts, or raise the sea like uncle Poseidon so I'm not really sure what my part in all of this should be.”

Charon was indeed aware of the fact that Hermes’ primary gift was his swiftness and his keen mind – not warfare – he was a messenger and not a warlord. But Charon did not want his input on how to start a war, Charon just wanted his input on how to best nudge the first pebble – how to best start of the chain-reaction that, ideally, should get everyone to talk out their problems. The heart of which was, in Charon's opinion, whatever had happened surrounding Queen Persephone, mother Nyx, Lord Hades and obviously Zagreus too.

Now of course, that was the delicate part that Charon hadn't yet gotten around to explaining. He was just about to continue but Hermes had already taken the first part of the conversation and was running with it now.

“If you want me to put you in contact with my family regarding a possible plot-” Hermes went on in that rapid-fire way of his “then I have to tell you that I really don't think that that is a good idea.” his brows were slowly drawing together until a furrow appeared on his forehead “Now, I'm not saying that you aren't a really nice, powerful and smart fellow but I think we both know that non of them will be all that interested in getting in touch with a chthonic god, I mean, you already met a few of them way back when no? They don't really think all that highly of your kind. Might think even less of you than the rest of your kin because of… you know.” here Hermes lifted his free left hand – his expression was a strange cross between embarrassed, regretful and, surprisingly, angry too – as he indicated all of Charon.

Charon for his part caught on immediately, his smoke stalling a little as he contemplated if he should be amused or resigned. Finally a thick plume of smoke rose. He reached out his right hand, cupping it around the hand Hermes had resting on the table top – it got the other gods attention. Brown eyes rose towards Charon and the boatman just shook his head mutely.

He did not want to get in contact with Olympus. He was rather aware of the fact that it would be a terrible idea. With the small exception of Hermes all of them seemed to think him nothing more than a mumbling spectre, incapable of understanding what was going on around him. A dull, one-dimensional creature that only cared for money and rowing his boat.

Hermes warm hand twitched a little under Charon's light touch “Okay, so no trying and getting into contact with the rest of the family then?” he asked and Charon shook his head again, his thumb taking up an unconscious back and forth motion, stroking over Hermes’ knuckles. 

Charon knew that it would be best if non of the other Olympians got involved in all of this – in the end all of this revolved around Queen Persephone and Charon would like to keep all the information concerning her as far away from the vindictive bunch up on their mountain as possible.

“Okay, so no messages or letters to Olympus and no help from me fighting. So what is your plan then? Try for an audience? And better yet, what do you want me to do about all of that then? Cross my fingers? Send you good thoughts? Maybe give you a boon? A little speed boost in case you need to quickly high-tail it out of the house again after uncle Hades told you off?”

A few puffs of stardust smoke rose at that – betraying laughter. How silly that Hermes thought Charon would _**run**_ from Lord Hades. He was more ancient that Lord Hades, born of Darkness and Night, connected to this realm in a way most could not even comprehend and in a fair one-on-one fight there was nothing for Charon to fear.

“ _I intend to get back into contact with someone_.” Charon said and that certainly made Hermes’ brows pull down in an expression that was half intrigue and half confusion. Charon's right hand curled slightly – squeezing Hermes’ – before he continued, starting from the very beginning “ _You see, my friend, Lord Hades has a son and_ -”

He did not get any farther because a jolt shot through Hermes at that piece of information. The other god’s head rose from where it had been propped up by his right hand only so he could reach said hand out, his fingers falling to cover Charon's hand on top of his own. His eyes widened, mouth falling slightly open – even the wings on his head spread, beating a few times in the air; and Charon could not help but link it to the look of a thoroughly startled bird.

“No way!” Hermes called out, cutting off any possible further explanation. His wings were still beating as he asked “What’s his name? Has he already come into his own?”

“ _Zagreus_.” Charon patiently answered the first question, though he spent a bit more time thinking on the second one before he finally explained to Hermes that Zagreus was already fully grown – he was still young, yes, but he could certainly already be considered an adult – and yet he still hadn't come into his own; he had no control over his powers, in fact, non of them even knew what powers he might develop or what he might reign over one day; least of all Zagreus himself.

“Wow, now that certainly isn't something I expected, having a hidden cousin all the way down here in the underworld.” a beat of pause “But wait! You said you wanted to get in contact with someone. Did he run away or something? Do you want me to look for him, is that it?”

A thick plume of fondly-annoyed purple smoke rose upwards. Charon moved his left hand, placing it again overtop of Hermes’ in an attempt to slow the other god down at least a little – all four of their hands lay now entwined, holding onto one another.

“ _No_.” Charon said “ _And I would truly appreciate it if you would let me finish my sentences. Maybe that would clear up your confusion as well_.” he added, half good-humour and half chiding. And Hermes at the very least had the good grace to duck his head a little at that remark.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just a lot to take in. Please continue.”

A second of silence, a puff of smoke and then Charon continued “ _Something happened when Zagreus was born. I do not know what, but it made his mother leave and Lord Hades ordered that no one was to ever speak of her again. Yet her absence devastated both my mother as well as Lord Hades, both of them drew back to mourn and subsequentially this entire realm is now falling into a state of neglect. So my hope is to somehow get in contact with the Queen and work all of this out_.”

Charon saw how Hermes’ mouth opened but he just gently tapped the pointer of his top-most hand against the other god’s knuckles, getting him to close his mouth again “ _The night she left my mother veiled her in darkness which means no one but she knows where the Queen is hiding now. I know my mother and I know she would never tell where the Queen is hiding to anyone – unless she felt that that person asking had a right to an honest answer_.”

Here Hermes’ eyes widened a fraction “Oh I see where this is going. Let me guess: no one ever told Zagreus about his mother so now you hope you can make him aware of her so he goes and asks Nyx, yes?”

Charon nodded.

“And I guess you can’t just waltz directly up to him and tell him yourself either since it would get you into heaps and heaps of trouble.”

Again Charon nodded. Yes, he would get into ‘heaps of trouble’ as Hermes had so eloquently put it – not just with Lord Hades but with his mother too. And that was even before one took into account that Charon could not really ‘talk’ to Zagreus to begin with… and even if they did not have to work around a language barrier, there were other problems too.

Like his mother on a whole. She trusted him and his judgment, yes, but she also knew of his quickly flaring anger and his tense relationship with Lord Hades. If he suddenly – after centuries of avoiding the house all together – rowed up to the gates it would make her more than just a little suspicious of his motives. Especially after their last talk where Charon had made it more than clear that he was willing to force a change if push came to shove. So he would probably not even be able to get close to Zagreus in the first place – at least not unsupervised.

“So you have to get Zagreus to find out about her indirectly?”

“ _Yes_.” Charon answered “ _I presume that there must still be something hinting at her existence left in the house. Both Lord Hades as well as my mother were very fond of her, so, despite their better judgment, they probably held on to some things_.” a second of pause “ _At least I hope so_.”

A glint sparked in Hermes’ eyes and a sly grin settled on his face “So you need someone to come up with a plan to make all of that work. And you immediately thought of me? I'm very flattered.” he chuckled at that last part, looking supremely pleased – his godly pride obviously stroked by that realization.

For a moment Charon simply watched the other god before he drew in a bracing breath “ _There is something else_.” Charon said, squeezing his top-most hand around Hermes’ knuckles and getting the other god’s attention again “ _And I do not wish to keep secrets from you_.” a tense beat of silence “ _But you have to swear to me that you won't breathe a word of what I am about to say_.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“ _Swear it_.”

“Okay, I swear on my winged boots and my Caduceus.”

A thick curtain of smoke rose and then “ _Down here we call Zagreus’ mother Queen Persephone_.” a heartbeat passed and then Charon finally took the plunge “ _Your kin called her Kore_.”

For a second everything was still and then Hermes pulled both his hands back to himself, his palms slapping against the tabletop. The loud screech of chair legs dragging over the floor reverberated through the room – followed by a dull sound as the chair toppled to the floor. Hasty and noise wing beats displacing the air and suddenly Hermes was right in front of Charon's face.

Charon – actually startled – flinched back at the sudden proximity. Not that he got far, since Hermes’ hands had risen to cup around both of his sunken cheeks, holding him in place. 

The god of swiftness sported a huge grin “No way! That's perfect! That's actually too good to be true! That might actually solve two problems in one go! Two birds one stone as the mortals say! If we get Kor… I mean Persephone; if we can somehow reach her and get her involved then we might be able to not just solve all the problems down here but the mess up on Olympus too!”

Hermes let out a laugh and it sounded positively elated, his brown eyes sparking with something that looked borderline wild “Was a shrewd woman that one, always thought that, had a way with words, it was incredible, often stepped in to mediate between the family, probably was what got on her nerves at some point and made her leave, but she got everyone together like no-one else had managed before or since then.”

Another elated laugh – Hermes sounded nearly drunk on relief “So first we get her back down here and fix whatever mess you all are in and then maybe we could convince her to come up with a plan to get the family up on Olympus on the same page again. Athena has been trying for years, you know, always thought she was a right fool for trying, since she has a fair few squabbles with the lot of them too, like Ares for example, knew she would never be able to make it work, but Persephone? She might actually have a chance! Even if it doesn't work on that grand a scale she might at the very least be able to stop Demeter from freezing the world into one big snowball.”

Charon let out a startled groan as Hermes’ palms on his cheeks moved backwards – finger tips now burying themselves into his shoulder-length white hair, cupping the back of his head – and then, with unexpected strength, Hermes pulled until Charon's right cheekbone was resting on Hermes’ left shoulder.

“This is absolute amazing Charon! What a chance!” the god of swiftness called out and Charon turned his head as much as he could to look upwards. Hermes’ brown eyes were positively sparkling, fixed on Charon as if he was the only important thing in the universe. 

Hermes was grinning so widely that it dimpled his cheeks, the corners of his eyes were crinkled and Charon thought he looked stunning like that. Again there was that concerning, unfamiliar twist in his chest, something loose rattling around beneath his ribs, his heart picking up its pace…

…

And suddenly realization shot through Charon with such a vicious strength that, for a moment, he might have confused it with one of Zeus’ lightning bolts.

He let out a low, nearly distressed noise – which was drowned out underneath Hermes’ happy laughing. A thick, helpless plume of mist rose from both edges of his mouth as he was finally able to put a word to that strange feeling that had been clinking around his chest-cavity for such a long time now.

Love. He was in love. He had never been in love before… not with another person at least. He loved his rivers with everything he was yes, and this feeling right now certainly was similar, and yet it was different too. It had such a strange flair to it. No wonder he had been unable to identify it until now.

Suddenly a lot seemed to make sense. Why he felt so comforted by Hermes’ presence, why he didn't mind his touch or proximity, why he held the time they spent together so dear, why he trusted him so much.

If Charon could close his eye to shut out the world he would have done so in that very moment. Oh gods help him, he truly was in love and he did not know what to do with that sudden, frightening knowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 16, also known as ‘Chapter 15b’ since I had to split it. This part was a little nicer to revise since, after the big changes in 15a I just needed to shuffle a bit of stuff around and rewrite a few parts. Still, I genuinely hope that 15/16 didn't read strangely or seemed too cobbled together or abrupt or odd pacing-wise.
> 
> So to anyone still down here thank you all a lot for reading this far <3 Comments are always appreciated.


	17. All Set

“Now, I might not have the keenest eye for architecture but this one is new, yes? I'm not going mad am I?” Hermes asked, circling around one of the new pillars that decorated the temple Styx now. It was a hypothetical question and they both knew it.

The pillars held up the newly fixed ceiling which was now decorated with frescos and gilded carvings. Candles lit the hall, their flicker throwing moving shadows against the walls. Truthfully, the new lights seemed somewhat strange, Charon thought. He had stood in near darkness up here for so long that the sudden brightness just seemed off. And wasn't that single sentence a damnation in its own right? He was so used to the temple being dark and dank that the new candles actually put him off.

There was a lot more beside light and pillars and fancy ceiling paintings though. Fresh marble on the floor, gold adorned edges, a new set of stairs, carvings… the only thing that was still the same was the fact that the Satyrs and vermin were as persistent as ever.

At this point Charon doubted they would ever get them out of the temple again. It were so many now and the population was only growing, with their tunnel networks like an ant colony. Still, since Charon's ‘little warning’ a while back they hadn't dared to poke their heads out of their tunnels again.

So as long as they stayed out of this new main hall and kept their dirty paws far away from the rivers Charon did not feel the need to complain about them. Yes, they would have to deal with them eventually, but it certainly wasn't the most pressing matter at the time.

The temple wasn't the only thing that was slowly getting restored to its former glory. The cracks in Tartarus were mended, old rooms getting new floorings, new pillars, new walls. Elysium on its part had gotten new statures, old bridges had been fixed and the fighting arena had gotten new seating.

Restoration was going slowly but steadily and Charon had the suspicion that this sudden change in focus was thanks to his mother. She, after all, had promised to see to it that the underworld would not deteriorate further. 

Now, _**how exactly**_ she might have persuaded Lord Hades to part with some of his hoarded wealth – not that Charon could point fingers in this particular instance since he hoarded his own wealth too and was always loath to part with it – to start and fix all of that was anyone's guess.

Maybe she had spun a story or maybe she had revealed but a glimpse of her true power or maybe she had simply reminded Lord Hades of who this realm truly belonged to. In any case, it was working and, whenever Charon traversed Elysium or Tartarus, he saw a multitude of shades that – during their lifetime – had been stone masons, carpenters, artists, etcetera, and they were all busy at work patching up any kind faulty or cracking structure.

The only thing that non of them could fix was Asphodel since Phlegethon’s magma would ruin any attempt at installing new greenery there. Still, if Charon was honest then he’d rather have no meadows at all than have anything potentially harmful be done to Phlegethon to fix the issue – Charon had his priorities and if he had to decide between the shades or his rivers… well, his rivers would always come first.

“Hey, why so glum there?” Hermes asked, having moved from the pillar to Charon so quickly that he might as well have teleported like Thanatos.

Charon assumed his missing euphoria at the desperately needed patch-ups was rather obvious to Hermes. He let out a puff of smoke, his glowing eye moving from his right socket – looking at Hermes – to the left – looking around the temple.

Charon assumed his ‘glum’ mood was due to the fact that all of these sudden fixes somehow felt like an appeasement on his mother’s part. As if she had somehow caught wind of the fact that he was planning something and now wanted to say: ‘See? I kept my promise. Everything will look fine again soon enough, so please stop whatever you are attempting.’.

It was a good try and if Charon had cared but a little less about the work environment and the relationships down in this realm it might even have worked. But Charon _**did**_ care. This silence and wilful ignorance was draining the life from all of them – especially Zagreus.

Before Thanatos and Hypnos Charon had only cared about the realm and his own duty – ‘family’ hadn't been a word in his vocabulary. But with the birth of the twins that had slowly changed – he had come to like the term ‘family’ and what it meant. 

And had mother Nyx not introduced Zagreus as Charon's brother? She had. 

Then she should have at the very least also thought of the possibility that Charon might get offended or worried on his behalf. That Charon at some point would grow tired of biting his tongue. That Charon still remembered what this realm had been like after mostly all of his siblings and half-siblings had left because they just couldn't stand this place any longer.

She should have thought of the fact that Charon would refuse to go back to the time where the house had been a house but not a home.

Beside, even if Charon – for some bizarre reason – decided to _**now**_ pull the brakes, this driving chariot still wouldn't stop. Charon had already talked with Hermes and the knowledge of Queen Persephone had breathed a new kind of never before seen enthusiasm into him. He was driven, now, downright eager – new upwind under his wings.

Charon remembered that, on some occasions, Hermes had made fun of Athena – who he had thought was wasting most of her time trying to unite a family that had no desire to come together as one again. He had shaken his head over her, had called it useless and a few much more unfriendly terms too. Had imitated her voice or had laughed at her latest failed attempts in a downright sardonic manner.

And yet underneath all of that there had always been a strange undercurrent of bitter resentment – hidden well, but obvious if one actually looked for it. And Charon had been looking closely for a very long time now. 

Behind the snide remarks and the snickering mean-spiritedness it had always seemed as if Hermes had secretly rooted for his half-sister. As if he had hoped for her to succeed yet had simply been too burned-out on all of it to actually put any stock or faith in her works.

And so he had turned to sarcastic scoffing to mask angry resignation.

Before all of this Charon hadn't been too sure before if his analysis of Hermes behaviour had actually been right or if he had simply over-interpreted words and gestures – seen things that hadn't been there. But by now Charon knew he had been right all along. 

Now that he had revealed one of the undoubtedly biggest secrets in the underworld to the god of swiftness Hermes had taken all of it and was now running with no sign of stopping. He seemed to staunchly believe that if they found Queen Persephone and got her to return then she could be reasoned into attempting to patch up things with Olympus as well.

Hermes might be a trickster and aggressively non-caring about a lot of things but he also had a warmer, gentler side to him – a side that actually _**did**_ care. So Charon just knew in his heart of hearts that he wouldn't be able to stop the other god even if he wanted to – which, truthfully, he didn't. A few new pillars and a nice painting on the ceiling of the temple did not fix the underlying problems the underworld seemed to have.

Queen Persephone herself had once said that to get rid of weeds you had to rip them out by the very root. And so Charon was currently simply making a grab for the perceived ‘root’ – namely, the fact that they all lacked someone level-headed and bold enough to step up between them and mediate. Someone willing and skilled enough to navigate all their ‘egos’ as Queen Persephone had once called it.

Because – from what Hypnos had let slip to him – even mother Nyx often hit a barrier with Lord Hades. Her arguing falling on deaf ears or even angering the Lord to the point where he out right raised his voice at her – something which mother Nyx had never tolerated, not from any of her children and surely not from Lord Hades either. And after a small show of her power both Lord Hades as well as she turned from one another again, deciding that it was a waste of time to try and work something out together – that it was simply easier and less stressful to do their work alone, while they tried not to get into each others ways too much.

“Not too happy with the motive, huh?” Hermes joked and his voice ripped Charon from his musings again. The god of swiftness was looking up at the painting as he spoke “Guess it is a bit egocentric – only showing uncle Hades and Cerberus, the temple isn't really his is it? It was here before he became Lord of the Dead, for the river and to shelter you and your boat no? Wouldn’t that mean that the person on that painting should actually be you?”

Charon let out a few puffs of smoke at that – a chuckle in his own right. The day Lord Hades would commission a painting of Charon and pay for it with his own money would be the day that Phlegethon in Asphodel would freeze over.

“So guess that means something along the lines of: ‘that won’t happen’.” Hermes said, pointing out the amused puffs of smoke that rose from Charon's mouth “Maybe should take some of your own money to commission something special for this place her.” Hermes continued.

He flew a wide circle then – indicating the space Charon had taken up for himself; a little to the side, away from the main walk way where Cerberus used to sit.

“You know what would look really nice here? One of those mosaics you had at your own place, you know, the skull with the coin in his mouth and on his eyes, maybe a bit of gold-trim too.” Hermes went on, his smile and voice turning sly as he shot Charon a telling look “Would surely annoy uncle Hades to learn that you did something like that.” he made it sound like that was a good thing.

… 

And Charon would be lying if he said that that particular idea didn't sound tempting – mark his own space; show his own splendour, his own power and influence and all the wealth in his possession. Just a small reminder to Lord Hades that Charon – even if he did not set a foot in the house – was still around, not even an arm-length away and that he had been here a long time before Lord Hades.

Another few clouds of glittering mist rose, showing of Charon's mischievous amusement at the idea and it made Hermes laugh. The god of swiftness drawing closer to finally circle playfully around Charon again “See, knew you would understand, great minds think alike after all.”

For a few moments Charon simply looked at the other god, watched him fly his circles, tacking in his broad, slightly toothy smile… he cocked his head a little, his smoke thinning slightly – betraying his sudden distraction. Betraying that his mind was no longer lingering on mosaics and petty symbolism but was instead utterly captivated by the god at his side.

If Charon could have smiled he would have done so in that moment. But maybe it was for the best that he couldn't, because the Stygian Boatman was rather sure he would have looked embarrassingly besotted.

#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+

Charon opened one of his carved wooden show cases, pulling out a bottle of Nectar and two amethyst adorned silver goblets before he walked back, placing all of it on the table in his room. He gathered his robes a little so he could sit down on one of the chairs without the fabric bunching or tangling around his feet.

“Now this certainly is a nice one.”

At that Charon briefly looked up to where Hermes was fluttering around in his room – the other god had a sceptre held in both of his hands, looking it up and down, turning it this way and that. Charon let out a few puffs of smoke that spoke of his amusement.

He leaned his elbow on the table and rested his jaw against his knuckles – watching the other god. Of course, Charon thought, it only made sense that Hermes would be drawn to some of the sceptres he had collected over the millennia of his existence – after all he wielded a Caduceus himself.

Hermes, as expected, had expensive and exquisite taste. The sceptre he was currently inspecting had been a gift from a wealthy king to his secret lover. Charon had gotten it as payment – the written contract was stored safely outside in the main-room of his small personal realm; left wall, second shelf.

It was a very simple contract too – Charon would row the lover from Asphodel up to Elysium, so they could see their king. He made the trip twice a year. And in exchange for that particular service he had been given the sceptre.

It was fashioned like a spiral, carved from olive wood – a durable material with a rather interesting grain pattern. Still, the actual eye-catcher wasn't the wood but the golden top – the gold intricately twisting, nearly like snakes, around a dark, blood-red garnet.

In the low light of Charon's private room it glinted softly – light reflecting off the polished wood, sparking off the gold, making the garnet seem like frozen blood; remind Charon of Styx. It really was a beautiful piece.

Charon turned his head the slightest bit, his glowing eye moving from the sceptre to the man currently holding it. Sharp eyes the colour of imported cinnamon and hair like expensive black silk, tongue and mind like the point of a spear and a smile that could put the shine of Helios’ chariot to shame.

“You don't have to watch me this closely.” Hermes suddenly laughed and it nearly made Charon flinch, as if he had just been caught doing something highly untoward “I'm not going to run off with it or anything.” Hermes continued to joke as he placed the sceptre back where it belonged.

Charon only let out a soft groan at that hoping the other god wouldn't notice anything strange about his behaviour. Truthfully, he had had forgotten about the sceptre entirely up until Hermes had, more or less, ‘reminded’ him about it again. Then again, Hermes really did not need to know just what Charon had been looking at instead of said sceptre.

And so he simply raised his head from his hand and – now that it was freed up – he indicated the table; the two goblets and the nectar standing on it.

“Quite the gracious host.” Hermes sing-songed in that tone of his as he flew over to the table. He sat down on the chair – the golden wings on his head flapping a few more times as if confused at the sudden stillness, before they tucked against the side of his head, half-hidden under black hair.

“So about that plan I had, you didn't seem to be too enthused about it. I mean, I know it is very indirect and there’s a lot of luck involved but indirect is what you wanted and since neither of us can actually step foot in the house without either being booted out again in my case or drawing a lot of suspicion in your case this really seems like the best option.”

Charon only let out a low groan at that. He reached over to uncork the bottle of nectar, filling both their goblets. Yes, the plan was very ‘luck based’ but that wasn't what Charon took issue with here because, at the end of the day, it was also very hard to trace back to either of them so in the case that it failed and nothing came from it they could simply come up with another plan without repercussions.

No, Charon problem was his younger brother. And he said as much as he put the nectar bottle down – the glass had barely touched the table again before Hermes was already making a grab for his goblet.

“I thought you said you can’t go into the house and Zagreus never really gets out either, not that that matters since he probably won’t stumble over something from his mother in burning Asphodel so what follows is that we need someone who can do things inside the house without drawing attention.”

Charon let out a low growl. He knew all of that and yet that did not mean that he had to like the obvious conclusion. He let out a thick puff of stardust mist and raised his right hand up to remove his wide-brimmed hat. He placed it down at the side of the table and then lifted his right hand again to ruffle through his wavy, shoulder-length white hair – the motion born from a kind of resigned frustration.

His ring adorned fingers fluffed through the hat-flattened white strands. They weren't soft silver like Thanatos’ nor a cloudy white like Hypnos, no, his hair was borderline glaring – like the bright mid-day sun hitting blank steel. It was a weird contrast, Charon was aware of that, his tar black face with its stretched-thin skin – like a corpse that had just been dragged from a moor – and his colourless star-shine hair, especially combined with his glowing purple eye and the equally purple, slightly glittering smoke that always rose from the edges of his mouth.

His mother had once said that he looked like a galaxy – face like black night-sky, eye and chthonic mist like the colourful clouds of dust that could sometimes be found in the void and hair like stars. He had still been very young when she had said that to him… and, even to this very day, he wasn't quite sure if she had actually been serious or if she had just wanted to make him feel better since he had looked nothing like his two siblings Aether and Hemera.

… He probably shouldn't doubt her words, he thought, and yet it was sometimes hard not to, when no one in his family – with the exception of his father – looked anything like him.

He let out another puff of thick smoke – briefly showing his exhausted irritation at the whole situation they were in right now. His right hand sank down to reach for his hat and a moment later he placed it back on his head. He looked up after he was done, eye landing on Hermes opposite of him.

The other god was watching him with a strange sort of facial expression that Charon was unable to interpret – he was nearly staring – and again Charon's right hand rose, this time in a self-conscious motion, as he pulled his hat a little lower still, hiding as much of his glaring hair as he could under its shadow.

Hermes seemed to realize what was going on a second later, he blinked, then cleared his throat, his gaze briefly flickering over the room before it landed back on Charon “It’s not like that. I’ve just never seen you without the hat before and your hair just reminded me a little of Apollo’s is all, he has these bright hair too, I mean, his are gold, actually kind of yellow now that I think of it. But that is all, really.” Hermes rushed to reassure – his cheeks even seemed to colour a little, golden hue visible; he was probably feeling embarrassed about the whole situation.

Charon on his part decided to simply let it slide – he did not want to know if Hermes was actually being truthful or if the trickster god was just using his quick tongue to save them both from an awkward moment.

So he only let out an amenable groan and inclined his head a little. Hermes cleared his throat again, reaching for his goblet to take another few sips before he finally spoke up again “Well, guess all that is left now is to cross our fingers and hope your brother is convincing enough.”

If Charon could have snickered he would have but instead only a few puffs of star-dust smoke rose, showing his clear amusement. Oh, he thought, Hypnos could be very convincing indeed – that nonchalant, provocative way he had with words; mentioning things as if in passing but knowing full well that whoever was listening would think on the matter for days on end until they came up with the exact same idea Hypnos had _**wanted**_ them to have in the first place.

Hypnos, while soft-spoken, mostly non-confrontational and often looking for approval and closeness, had also always been more mischievous than Thanatos. In the end Sleep was a warm, cosy bed shared with a loved one, sure – but Sleep could also be a cold coma that lasted until Death finally took hold. It was just that so many always forgot about that second aspect.


	18. A Job Well Done

“Hey, why the long face?” Hypnos’ sing-songed floating closer to his little brother. Now, this interaction could go two ways, Hypnos knew, either Zagreus would politely tell him to leave because he didn't feel like talking or he would overshare and then apologize for that afterwards.

He was a very strange mixture between often silent yet very self-conscious Thanatos and always talking yet very nonchalant Hypnos himself. 

Hypnos thought it might be because his twin and he had raised Zagreus alongside their mother – since Charon was very set on never stepping a foot in the house again unless he was _**explicitly**_ invited for something. His older brother was very forgiving but he could also be extremely stubborn if he wanted to be – and this was obviously one of the few occasions where he really, _**really**_ wanted to be difficult.

Well, at least Charon was easier to track down than Thanatos and did not try to cut all their interactions as short as possible. For someone with such a mean temper Charon could be surprisingly mellow and downright affectionate too – which was probably the reason why Hypnos had let himself be talked into all of this chaos to begin with.

His big brother had done a lot for him throughout the ages and he himself could do something easy like this to repay at least some of it – even if this sudden request seemed a little risky. So if this all ended in another one of Lord Hades’ angry shouting and yelling performances and Hypnos ended up being kicked out of the house then Charon better prepare a room for him in whatever space he had taken up for himself out there.

After all, there was only so much Hypnos could hide behind his smile and his airy demeanour. He mostly just got away with things because no one really pegged him for a threat – which, yeah, true. He, after all, had much more important things to do than run around causing trouble – sleeping for example, or decorating the edges of one of the new lists he had started.

Now that he thought on it, Hypnos probably should have written all of that in the contract too, after all Charon loved his contracts nearly as much as his rivers. Should have written something along the lines of: ‘In case I get evicted from the house you have to clear up a cosy, quiet room for me where I can live from there on out.’

“It’s nothing.” Zagreus finally answered, ripping Hypnos out of his musings. Now that kind of answer just wouldn't work, Hypnos thought.

“Really?” Hypnos needled, smiling brightly “Could have fooled me. You look like your father when he can’t find his favourite writing quill.”

Oh, now _**that**_ got a reaction – Zagreus absolutely hated to be compared to his father, and if looks could kill… Well, fortunately looks couldn't kill – would make work a lot harder for Thanatos too if that was the case, besides, there already were enough shades waiting for Hypnos to list them; so even more of them would just be obscene at this point.

“You know what?” Hypnos said “Mortals have these really huge feasts where they eat and get drunk and that supposedly makes them really happy. Before, we sometimes even got some shades who died of over-indulgence. We don't get them anymore though, something or else going on above it seems.” he shrugged his shoulders.

By now Zagreus was at the very least giving him some attention, looking at him as if he wasn't quite sure where he wanted to go with all of this “And?” the younger god asked and Hypnos for his part just spread his arms in an easy ‘don't really know’ motion.

“Just wanted to mention that some mortals seem to perk up after doing something wild and unexpected. It supposedly has a freeing effect, letting loose a little, finding yourself – that sort of stuff. So maybe you should do something stupid too. It might just help with your dour face because at this point it might get stuck like that.” 

Zagreus rolled his eyes at him but there was a spark of interest in his eyes – which Hypnos had expected. Zagreus was very much the ‘curious adolescent’ type – even if he was already fully grown. He was still very young for a god and often lacked a basic understanding of concepts that most of them had already grasped centuries and centuries ago… which often also made him very easy to trick.

The whole ‘exploring everything and doing dumb things’ had never been something either Thanatos nor he had done in their ‘youths’ or whatever counted for ‘youth’ between gods. Thanatos had been too busy with work and trying to be the most serious of them all; and Hypnos himself had simply lacked the drive, after all, why go out and do something stupid when he also could stay in, buried underneath his favourite quilt?

“Just think on it.” Hypnos quipped – deciding to back off for a bit – he shrugged his shoulders and then let out a very obvious yawn, stretching his arms a little “Anyway, I really have to go back to work now.”

“Back to sleep you mean.” Zagreus shot back.

“It’s both the same.” Hypnos said and though it was meant as a joke it wasn't a lie either. When he slept his mind was free to wander and touch those of the mortals above, therefore plunging them into unconsciousness too.

Sure it wasn't as hard or nearly as exhausting as reaping souls – like Thanatos – or controlling the night – like his mom did – but it was _**his**_ work. Beside, he had always been of the opinion that one should: ‘Work smarter, not harder’.

He gave another yawn – this one actually genuine – and then turned to float back to his place in the hall. Maybe, if he batted his eyelashes cutely enough Charon might cave and add another expensive, quilted blanket to the payment – Hypnos doubted it, but he assumed it was at least worth a try. 

#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+ _**(POV change)**_ #+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+ 

“So still nothing then?” Hermes asked, his wings beating quickly as he circled Charon's floating form.

“ _Be patient_.” the Stygian Boatman gave back as he crossed over the water of Styx to reach his private chambers at the end of the room – he waved his right hand slightly, trying to get Hermes to back of a little, least they accidentally bump into each other mid-air.

“I'm not sure if you have noticed but I'm the god of swiftness, so I'm really not too good with waiting and just dragging my feet.” Hermes gave back.

If Charon could have rolled his eye he might have. He let out a thick plume of smoke, signalling his fond-annoyance at the other god’s complaining. He touched down on the ground in front of his chambers and reached his hand out to pull the purple curtains back.

He inlined his head slightly, offering Hermes to go in first – and the other god took the invitation immediately, flitting past Charon. Alone and unobserved for the moment Charon shook his head to himself at Hermes’ antics before he walked into the room too.

He placed his oar against the left wall and made his way to one of his decorated wooden show cases. He knocked against the wood, briefly getting Hermes’ attention – the other god was already going through some of his collected goods again, seeing if something caught his fancy.

“Oh yeah, sure, go for it.” Hermes said and nodded briefly before his attention moved from Charon back to a marble stature on the right side of the room.

Another thick cloud of smoke escaped the edges of Charon's mouth as he opened the show case to take out a bottle of nectar and two chalices. He walked with his gathered items to the table at the edge of his room, depositing everything on the table top before he gathered his robes a little to sit down on the chair properly.

His eye moved from his right socket to his left so he could better watch the other god while he waited for him to bore of his exploration – Charon was patient like that unlike Hermes. By now Hermes had moved from the stature to Charon's oar, turning it this way and that to better look at the golden adornments.

Another thick plume of smoke left Charon's mouth – betraying something that was nearly a little wistful. Charon usually didn't let people touch his oar, he had had it for millennia now and at this point it was nearly like an old friend – an extension of himself in some way.

Of course Hermes did not know any of that – he was unaware of how indulgent Charon was towards him, how he tolerated behaviours that would normally end in a fight with most other people.

A few puffs of smoke rose up, showing some strange mix of mirthless amusement as Charon thought to himself that Aphrodite would make an excellent huntress too – being able to hit someone like him from all the way up on her mountain top – someone like him who was hidden beneath the very earth, all the way down here in misty, dark Erebus.

Or maybe it had not truly been Aphrodite at all who had shot him down, but instead his own family – his uncle Eros, or maybe even his sister Philotes. He would not put it past them both and it might indeed be the more reasonable explanation since he genuinely doubted that Aphrodite cared much for whatever emotions might sprout in the underworld since it was so far away from her glorious perch on Olympus.

He watched silently as Hermes finally seemed to hone in on a lyre – he plucked a few strings and let out a pleased sound as he noticed it was tuned properly. Of course it was, Charon thought, he always made sure everything in his possession was in mint condition.

“That one here is really pretty.” Hermes said as he picked up the lyre to inspect it properly “Tortoise shell too.” he commented and then leaned back in the air a little – his golden wings beating to keep him steady. Again he plucked a few strings “Had one like that a long time ago, haven't got it anymore though, is a long story, kind of boring too.”

Pluck, pluck “Has a very nice sound this one.” Hermes went on and after a few more curious plucks he started to play an actual melody. The sound was nearly haunting, positively enchanting – it would put Lord Hades’ own court musician to shame, Charon was sure of that.

He watched, somewhat entranced, how Hermes’ slim fingers moved over the strings oh so fluidly, noticing the small but contended smile on his lips, the focus in his gaze. It was obvious he liked playing and he looked nearly serene as he did so. Expression gentle, eyes sparking with warmth – happy. 

He was gorgeous like that Charon thought.

For the longest time it was absolutely silent except for the soothing lapping of Styx outside and Hermes’ music reverberating sweetly through Charon's chambers – both sounds mingling together, a melody that nearly seemed to enthral Charon – he had never quite felt this calm before.

But soon enough the music faded again and was instead replaced by Hermes voice “Really nice one you got there.” he reaffirmed, nodding his head once. He made to place the lyre back in its stand but Charon uttered a low groan that got the other god’s attention.

At Hermes confused gaze Charon just waved his hand in the air in a nearly dismissive motion – and the other god immediately picked up on what he meant with it, his brown eyes widening a fraction.

“Really?” he asked, sounding a little disbelieving. Charon only nodded and it made Hermes grin “Well thank you very much.” he said, pulling the lyre back into his lap. He plucked out another short melody on it.

As Charon listened to the new piece he felt a kind of exhausted resignation well up deeply inside of him. Had he really just gifted a priced lyre away? Just like that? Without even thinking of any kind of payment or recompense? Simply because Hermes liked it and enjoyed playing on it?

Why yes, it seems he had indeed done so.

A thick plume of glittering mist rose towards the ceiling as Charon suppressed the urge to rub a hand over his face. Distantly he wondered if his sister or maybe his uncle had a giggle at his current predicament.

He truly doubted Philotes would be so mean-spirited – she had only ever wanted the best for everyone… but Eros? Charon certainly wouldn't put it past him to get some sort of twisted amusement out of this situation.

“Hey, how about I play something for you, as a little thank you.” Hermes said, flying closer to Charon, circling above his head once, a broad grin on his face “Any wishes?” his smile gentled a little, his eyes warm as they looked at Charon expectantly, he seemed to draw even closer – now nearly brushing against the boatman.

Charon only puffed out a cloud of smoke and rose from his seat – careful not to accidentally bump into Hermes as he did so. He walked to one of his cupboards and pulled out the music sheets for the piece he had had specially commissioned a few years ago. He walked back – handing it to Hermes as he passed him.

While Charon gathered his robes so he could sit properly in his chair again Hermes had already started to flick through the pages. Charon was just in the process of brushing his robes flat again when Hermes quipped up again.

“Okay, got it.” the god of swiftness said. He drew his legs up slightly so he could lean the music sheets against his thighs and knees. His wings flapping a little as he sank in the air – now eye-level with Charon, so close that the Stygian Boatman could feel his warmth heating up the space between them. 

“Now just lean back and let me serenade you.” Hermes joked… though his voice had a strangely honest pitch – his eyes sliding away from Charon's face for a second before quickly settling back on it… nearly as if he was looking for a specific reaction but was afraid of not finding it yet did not accidentally want to miss it either.

For a second the smoke billowing from Charon's mouth stuttered as he thought… but no. He mentally shook his head to himself and then simply decided not to comment on any of… whatever this had just been. 

He was rather sure it was just his mind playing a trick on him anyway. Wishful thinking if one wanted to call it like that. So he simply got comfortable as Hermes started to play.

#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+

Charon knew something big had happened, he could feel it in how restless the waters of the underworld rivers were. It was like a shudder was wracking trough all of them, like a tide coming in, ready to crash into anything in its path.

It was very strange indeed and he could not really find a reason why the waters would be so disquieted on that day since nothing seemed to be amiss… at least not until Hypnos floated into the chamber that Charon had decided to put his shop into today.

“Oh, he certainly is big mad.” Hypnos immediately started without even saying a hello, he looked a little ruffled too, his clothes falling a little strangely, as if he had hurried – something which was nearly unheard of, Sleep never hurried.

Charon on his part just waved his oar once in front of him – forcing the shades that were looking at his wares to skitter away or risk being hit. He lowered himself and, now that the way was free, walked over to where his younger brother was floating. He gave an inquisitive groan.

“I mean Lord Hades. Boy, I thought his head was going to pop off he was shouting so loudly. Then again, I don't think he will ever bother me with anything ever again. He pretty much told me the same thing he told you way back when.” Hypnos said, he was by now reclining back in the air, his quilted cape underneath him like he was swaying in a hammock “Fortunately he didn't throw me out or else I would have needed to move in with you.”

Charon doubted Lord Hades would ever dare throw any of them out of the house _**officially**_ – Lord Hades had too much respect for mother Nyx to ever try something so audacious. But where Charon had taken the implicit ‘order’ and left – since he had had no desire to stay at the house in the first place – it was clear that Hypnos simply didn't care enough to take any of it serious, feeling – rightly – secure in his position.

For all that Charon knew his brother might even be happy now that he wouldn't be bothered by Lord Hades again anytime soon. It wasn't that Hypnos didn't care about his work or his place in the house but more that screaming and condescending words had never worked on him – in fact, they just made him more spiteful.

To get Hypnos to actually do something it needed a more delicate touch – no angry commands but instead friendly suggestions, actually speaking to him eye to eye, acknowledged that he was an equal – he was a god too after all. 

Furthermore Hypnos liked attention, especially from his family – he had always been like that – and any genuine errors he made were never made out of spite but simply because he tended to spent too much time on the wrong things, not seeing the big picture so to speak.

If one was aware of all of those little things – and Charon was, since he had helped to raise his brother – it was actually very easy and not stressful at all to communicate or spent time with Hypnos.

Charon inclined his head in a mute ‘thank you’ and as he raised his head again he let out an inquisitive groan, asking for more detail.

“Oh, I just said that he needed to loosen up a bit or he’d end up like his father and you know how he gets when you compare him to Lord Hades. It took a while but he finally asked me to put everyone to sleep so we could get drunk together.” Hypnos explained as he drew a half circle around Charon – now floating behind his older brother.

He rested both of his sleep warm hands on Charon's shoulders – looking for closeness – even propping his chin up on his brother’s hat before he continued “I spent the time napping but he went on to explore just like I thought he would, you know how curious he can be. He went through Lord Hades’ stuff and seemingly found something pretty big, though neither he nor mom wanted to tell me what it was.” the shrug was audible in Hypnos’ voice.

There was a beat of silence “Anyway, you own me quite a few quilted woollen blankets now, the good ones with the high-thread count, and a fair bit of coin too.”

Charon let out a hissing growl at that, though Hypnos took it as the joking complaint that it was. His younger brother only laughed and let go of his shoulders, drawing back a little “Come on, pack up. The sooner we get my new stuff the better.”

At that urging Charon only shook his head but he indulged his brother anyway and started to walk back to where he had put up his selection of wares so he could start packing up. 

It didn't take long for Hypnos to float after him and barely a second after that Charon again felt sleep-warm hands curling around his shoulders. Even now that he was all grown up Hypnos still liked to stick closely to whichever family member was in the room with him and would tolerate his presence – which normally meant either mother Nyx or Charon himself.

Though from what Hypnos had told him it seemed that mother Nyx currently tried to keep her distance from him and had told Hypnos not to approach her out in the open if it wasn't for official business.

Truthfully Charon wasn't too sure if that approach would work on someone like Hypnos but mother Nyx had always been full of surprises and she certainly had raised more ‘temperamental’ children over the aeons of her life. So who knew?

“Say Charon-” Hypnos spoke up again after a while “What exactly are you planning with all of this? So I managed to convince Zagreus to snoop around a little and he seemingly found some weird documents that put everyone in a tissy… but what exactly will that do?”

Charon let out a thin stream of smoke at that. To be honest he did not quite know just yet if it would do _**anything**_ at all. The hope had been that Zagreus might find something that had belonged to Queen Persephone or at the very least made him aware of her existence since no one in the underworld was allowed to speak of her under threat of pain and punishment. 

And even without the looming threat of Lord Hades mostly everyone – with the exception of mother Nyx and Charon and Lord Hades himself – thought that Zagreus was mother Nyx’s child, so no one ever really thought to bring up the Queen in his presence anyway since it just didn't seem relevant.

And since it had been clear that mother Nyx would never talk unless push came to shove – and Charon himself could not talk even if he wanted to, thanks to all the problems he had already mentioned to Hermes – this indirect approach had been their best bet.

Trying to jump-start something small that could be blamed on dumb luck – so the young god had gotten drunk and went exploring and had found something he shouldn't have. What a coincident! Such an unfortunate series of events! Too bad! Who could have thought?

… Now all that truly remained was to cross their fingers and hope that Zagreus had actually found something _**useful**_ that would get things moving around the house.

“ _I do not yet know what it will do_.” Charon finally answered his brother “ _But I do have a hope_.” his glowing will-o’-wisp of an eye moved from his right socket to his left so he could better look at his brother “ _And if my hope is indeed realized, then you will find out what all of this was about soon enough_.”

Hypnos blew out a sarcastic raspberry at that, aiming the air-stream at Charon's ever-rising smoke to displace the purple mist “You and mom are so much alike when you talk. Like: ‘Something might happen or maybe not, you’ll see’. Seriously Charon, could you be any more vague?”

Charon puffed out a few clouds of smoke – they clearly showed his chuckle “ _I could try to be if it is your honest desire_.”

Hypnos let out a startled laugh at that “Oh no, don't even think about it. You would be insufferable to talk to.”

Finally Charon managed to get all of his things packed up. He carried the bag to his ferry and motioned Hypnos to follow “ _Come then_.” he said “ _So I might give you your payment for a job well done_.”

#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+

Not much time had passed since he had given Hypnos his payment – in fact, it was still the very same day and still early enough that Charon wasn't due to meet Hermes up in the temple for at least a few more hours – when his mother suddenly approached him.

He looked up from where had been busy clearing the rubble of a newly collapsed pillar in Asphodel – the stone finally brittle enough to break thanks to the constant heat. Because where the temple, Tartarus and Elysium looked better than they had in years Asphodel was still flooded and Phlegethon’s once flaming water was still scorching magma.

The pillar – of course – had fallen right into Phlegethon and had blocked one of his thin side arms, hindering his flow – which had distressed Phlegethon quite a bit, making him call out to Charon.

Charon's glowing eye moved from his right socket – looking at his work – to his left – now looking at his mother. There wasn't even one single hair out of place on her, even floating there in the middle of the fiery inferno that Asphodel had become she looked like she belonged right here. Proud bearing and raised head. A true Queen.

“My child.” she greeted and Charon finally straightened up, turning to her fully now that she had made it clear that she wanted to talk. He raised his hand to tip his hat at her – though his movement was a little wary. He had not expected her and her sudden appearance after everything that had seemingly happened last night was more than just a little suspicious.

For a few long moments they simply stared at each other as they both obviously tried to figure each other out. For a second mother Nyx’s lips thinned a little, her golden eyes nearly glinting and in that moment it was clear that she knew – or at the very least suspected.

In response Charon's smoke stuttered, cutting off here and there as Phlegethon around him picked up his pace, angry magma bubbles popping all around them – clearly noticing his husbands nervousness.

Time passed as both chthonic gods looked at one another in tense silence… but in the end mother Nyx simply – unexpectedly – inclined her head a little as if to say: Well played.

“You are in close contact with Lord Hermes due to the nature of your work here. He is treating you well is he not?” she asked and Charon nodded his head once, feeling a little confused by the seemingly out-of-place question.

His mother seemed to pick up on it easily and went on to explain herself a little more “Many of his kin do not care for us chthonic gods, yet he seemingly is an exception. Therefore I was wondering if there might be others who would share his open mind.”

It seemed mother Nyx had already come up with a plan of how to proceed from here on out – which wasn't surprising, she had always been quick like that. Charon wasn't too sure why she now seemingly wanted to get in contact with the Olympians but he wouldn't question her judgment.

A thick curtain of smoke rose from the edges of Charon's mouth as he remembered a few of the stories Hermes had told – how he had always placed empathise on his half-sister and her level-headedness and willingness to be open and learn new things. She might be the most likely to respond to a call for aid even if it came from a chthonic god or goddess.

And so he let out a low groan in answer “ _Athena_.”

“The goddess of wisdom.” mother Nyx said and after a moment of consideration she nodded “Do you think Lord Hermes would be amenable to the idea of carrying a few letters for me?”

Oh, Charon thought, Hermes would probably be elated at the idea. Still, Charon didn't say any of that, instead he simply inclined his head mutely in a ‘yes’.

“Would you be so kind as to give a letter to him then, when next you meet?” mother Nyx asked and again Charon inclined his head “Very well.” she said, giving a nod of her own. Her hand rose, reaching between the folds of her own robes and a second later she procured a sealed letter.

“I trust that this will remain between us?” it might have been worded like a question but both of them knew that it wasn't – they both knew Charon would not let one single word of this slip to anyone.

Charon inclined his head and gave an affirmative groan anyway, before he floated closer to his mother and reached his bony hand out to take the letter from her. He assumed that this was the pebble he had wanted to kick loose. Now all that remained was to step back and watch the landslide happen.

All of it was out of his hands now and he simply had to trust that mother Nyx’s plan – whatever it might be – would lead to a good end result.


	19. Don’t Ignore It

“What’s that? Don’t tell me uncle Hades finally decided to answer some of those old letters. Did Asphodel freeze over finally?” Hermes said in that joking way of his, taking the letter held between Charon's bony fingers – behind him his collected shades waited for their ferry. 

Hermes turned the sealed letter, looking at the front “Now that certainly isn't uncle Hades’ crest. Who wrote that?”

A glittering plume of smoke rose before Charon answered, the groan a very familiar sound to him “ _Mother_.”

Hermes blinked at that “What? Nyx? Really?” Charon only nodded, feelings somewhat amused by the other gods unusual bafflement. Hermes wasn't easily confused so seeing his feathers slightly ruffled certainly was a rare sight.

“Okay, so Nyx is the sender and to whom should I deliver it?” Hermes asked, already opening his satchel a little further so he could stow the letter properly.

“ _Athena_.”

Hermes’ movements froze, one hand on the edge of his satchel, the other one still holding the letter. Again he blinked – once in confusion, then a second time in realization “No way?!” he called out, sounding both disbelieving as well as incredibly excited “She’s trying to make contact then? Ask for aid with the whole fiasco down here?”

Charon nodded again, feeling rather happy himself – he would have smiled if he actually was able to. Sure, there was still a lot left unclear, like what exactly mother Nyx and Zagreus were planning to do for example – he hadn't yet been told any clear details, he assumed he might get more information once mother Nyx felt like things were progressing in the way she wanted them too. But she did indeed want for Zagreus to finally find Queen Persephone – and hadn't that been the main goal here?

So all that was left to do now was to hope that whatever mother Nyx wanted from Olympus would work out and that Zagreus would be successful in finding his mother. That was mostly everything that Charon had wanted from this.

He raised his head slightly, tilting it a little so he could look up at where Hermes was flying in the air in front of him. The god of swiftness was grinning at him now as he rushed a little to get the letter properly stowed away.

A second of stillness and then Hermes hands shot out to curl around both of Charon's – lifting the right and pulling the left off of his oar, which continued to float faithfully in the air beside him until it would next be grasped.

Hermes squeezed the hands in his grip for a moment, swaying their combined grips back and forth – it was a movement that spoke of utter elation. Charon only let out an amenable groan, letting Hermes move him however the other god wanted. Enjoying the warmth the touch brought – the intimate feeling of it.

Hermes’ wings were beating so quickly they were nearly humming in the air, his smile was downright blinding, dark brown eyes crinkling at the corners. He was gorgeous like that. Charon felt Hermes’ hands squeeze a little tighter around his own – as if the god of swiftness wanted to make sure Charon would stay put.

His mouth was slightly opened, lips shining a little where he must have swept over them with his tongue. He tilted his head a little, drawing closer, his brown eyes fixed on Charon's single glowing one – nearly hypnotising.

…

And in that moments Charon suddenly realized that he was staring at the other god like one might stare at an exceptionally intriguing painting. He lowered his head a little, feeling embarrassed by his own rude behaviour… though he jerked it up again as Hermes – lightning quick – pulled his hands back and instead made a grab for Charon's hat, pulling it off in a quick, borderline angry motion.

“Oh no, no hiding under that wide brim of yours.” Hermes said, his expression strangely frustrated and impatient. He fluttered back a little – out of Charon's immediate reach, holding the hat to his chest as if it was some priceless artefact.

As if on reflex Charon lifted his right hand, combing it through his hair, from front to back as if he somehow hoped to hide it at least a little under the movement of his bony hand. He never really took his hat off – even all those aeons ago before he had even had commissioned it from a skilled shade he had had a black cloth draped over most of his head; hiding his glaring hair.

“It looks like the moon.” Hermes suddenly said, his voice lower than normal, warm and downright gentle – a stark contrast to the indignant tone he had used before. His words made Charon look up a little, his glowing eye fixing on the other god. 

He wanted to retort, wanted to fire back that he knew quite well that he was a mix of mismatched colours – glaring white and void black and glowing purple – that he might have been blessed with tremendous power but certainly not with godly beauty… but the genuine, nearly enthralled expression on Hermes’ face made the words stick in his throat – unspoken.

He let out an especially wheezing breath that had no meaning – the only thing it did was to push out a huge plume of glittering purple smoke. He curled and uncurled the fingers of his right hand a few times before he finally let them slip out of his hair – his hand falling back to his side nearly a little awkwardly.

Charon was old – very old – and yet nothing but coin and other precious items had ever caught his eye. Nothing had ever tugged on his heart except for the voices of his rivers. And this… ‘thing’ that had been happening for a while now… it was the first time another person had drawn Charon's attention and he felt woefully out of his depths.

Standing there, mutely, while he didn't know how to properly react to the playful banter and the seemingly genuine compliments of a close colleague, friend – ‘professional associates’ as Hermes liked to joke – who might have cared for Charon, true, but very likely not quite in the way Charon cared for him.

Because, why would he? Hermes was flying up in the sky while Charon was stuck underground, bound to his rivers and by his duty both. His face like a dried up corpse and his body paradoxically much too bony for the brute strength it held. 

Hermes could probably pick and chose from most of the Olympian gods and probably most mortals too. Why would he settle on someone like Charon? That just didn't make any sense.

Maybe, Charon thought, this would be easier if he had been breed and raised on Olympus – weren't Olympians famously very free with their love and affections? Maybe he would know how to act in this kind of situation if he had actually been infatuated before… which he hadn't been.

He felt terribly put on the spot right now, especially without his hat to at least partially hide behind and he unconsciousness ducked his head a little – trying to appear smaller, which probably looked silly thanks to his large, towering form.

“You don't need to look so dour.” Hermes said, his voice had taken on a near apologetic note as he fluttered closer again. A second passed and then he placed the hat back on Charon's head “You know, I wasn't joking or anything, I mean it. I already told you that Apollo has these really bright nearly yellow hair? They kind of look like the sun but yours look like moon-light, certainly less glaring than Apollos, a lot softer, less blinding, so you really don't have to feel self-conscious or something about their shine.”

The god of swiftness fluttered a little lower so he could look up at Charon – both of them now hidden underneath the shadow of the wide-brimmed hat “I really like them.” he said and his voice was so guileless it was nearly a little funny – the trickster god of Olympus looking up at Charon with such a borderline naive look on his face.

A curtain of smoke rose – fond annoyance and exhausted resignation all on one. A heartbeat passed and then Charon lifted his right hand to ruffle through Hermes’ black hair; always careful not to knock the wreath askew or accidentally bump into the other god’s two wings there. He let out a groan, trying to defuse the tense situation, trying for a light-hearted joke.

Hermes let out a laugh “You like my hair too? Guess we make quite the team then, white and black.” here he trailed of for a second as if unsure – as if he wanted to continue but did not know if it was the right choice.

The moment passed and Hermes raised his eyes up a little, deep brown sparking with something bordering stubborn determination “Opposites attract, that's what Aphrodite always says anyway, it’s probably why she ended up with Ares.” he said it like there was some deeper meaning there and it made Charon flounder a little – his hand slowly dropping out of Hermes’ hair again as he tried to figure out what the other god wanted to say.

“Your hair isn't the only thing I like about you, you know.” Hermes suddenly spoke up again, still looking up at Charon, watching the Stygian Boatman from beneath his lashes – his gaze intense, his voice heavy with sentiment. 

His words made Charon freeze up – a viscously thick cloud of glittering smoke rose as he let out a groan that sounded half angry and half questioning. Demanding to know what Hermes was trying to play at here. He certainly wouldn't let himself be made fun off.

Hermes ignored the question and simply went on “I like your wit and how focused you are on your work, you can fight and when you get angry it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen and yet most of the time you are very sweet and calm. You care a lot, about this realm and about your family.” a beat of pause “And obviously about me too.” Hermes finished boldly, fluttering a little closer.

“I know how you look at me, I actually noticed it quite a while ago.” Hermes said, a sharp glint appearing in his soft brown eyes “I'm looking at you too, an awful lot, have been looking for a lot longer than I usually look too, you know.” He continued, his voice lowering a little as he spoke. 

“Am very quick with my affection, get infatuated quickly but lose interest just as quickly again most of the time. Hasn’t happened with you yet, feels different to the other times before, so I think this might actually be the real deal, which, as I said, hasn't happened to me before, so I really want to give it a try, but all my hints just seem to bounce off of you. All the touching and nudging, some of the gifts, sitting still for you for so much longer than I would for anyone else. I have been so patient, waiting for you.”

Hermes had fluttered a little higher, still looking up at Charon but now a lot closer to the chthonic god’s face “And I'm really tired of waiting and taking it slow, it’s just not my style you know. So I guess I have to be more direct, your kind is like that, no? Not like my family, all that convoluted back and forth, no, just tell it straight. Leaves no room for confusion too, might actually be the smarter way of doing things, doesn't waste so much time.”

A short pause and then “Anyway, you know what I'm getting at here, yes?” Hermes asked, his eyes nearly hypnotic, staring at Charon – as if he was begging him to finally get the hint. He lifted his hands to cup them around Charon's jaw, stroking his thumbs over the tar black skin that stretched tightly over Charon's cheekbones.

“You know right?” Hermes asked again – his voice was nearly a challenge now as he fluttered a little higher still so they both were finally face to face.

Another wheezing sound left Charon – like cutting open a corpse and finding that the last bit of trapped air could now finally escape. A plume of smoke followed alongside the noise, the purple glitter wafting up, stroking past Hermes’ face as it did so – since they both were so close by now – it was nearly like a fleeting caress.

If this was a joke then it was one in very poor taste indeed and…

“You are so suspicious my good professional associate.” Hermes said with a wry smile, clearly picking up on Charon's mute disbelieve and doubt “I'm not lying, would be a fool to try and lie to you anyway, don't fancy the punishment for something like that, would rather not get in a brawl with you.” Hermes chuckled though it sounded fondly-irritated.

In the end the god of swiftness cocked his head to the side a little – he wore a strange expression, a little amused a little resigned “Fine.” he said “If you need a bit more time to figure things out then I will be here tomorrow too, delivering those gabby shades to you, and the day after that, and after that too, you know, for however long mortals continue to die, might be a small eternity you know.” he said it like a promise.

And with that Hermes backed off again, his hands slipping away from Charon's face “You know, my boons are all about being quick, getting a move on, but I guess dragging my feet and actually waiting for you slow-poke to catch up might be the biggest blessing I could give, so I hope you appreciate that.” Hermes quipped – a little meanly and a little fond too. He circled around Charon once before stopping in front of him again, he tapped his pointer finger against his own temple “Think on it, yeah?” and with that he was off.

#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+#+

Two days later, as Hermes was dropping off an answer from Athena Charon made sure to hand over a letter of his own as well.

“And this one is from whom?” Hermes asked – he was surprisingly professional given what had happened between them… thought now that Charon was actually looking, now that he did not try to explain everything away he certainly saw the lingering gazes, the way Hermes seemed to draw closer to him nearly unconsciously, how he tried to search out Charon's glowing gaze.

Charon gave a groan in answer “From you?” Hermes asked a little disbelieving, turning the letter in his hand – it was just a piece of folded parchment, no wax seal, no envelope. A second passed and then “Can I read it?” Hermes asked, curious to a fault.

Charon simply puffed out a few clouds of smoke, showing his amusement. He inclined his head and, as if that had been a start shoot, Hermes flipped the folded parchment open quickly. His eyes flew over the page and the words written on it.

“Really?” he chuckled “A contract?” he looked up at Charon in a kind of fond amusement “So you will help too, for a price that is. Selling whatever help my family might give in those shops of yours. Well, I’ll certainly let them know. Might even think of offering a bit of help of my own, not officially though, don't want the family to know I'm picking sides now, a messenger should usually be neutral you know.” he drew a playful circle around Charon as if he couldn't help himself.

“Want my own contract though, non of my kin on Olympus knows how to make a good wager and I'm not letting myself be robbed blind or anything, not even by you.” he chuckled, drawing another circle until he finally stopped in front of Charon again.

“Hey, thanks.” he said, sounding genuine and serious for once “We both know I have a few more horses in this race than you do, what with me betting on Persephone to maybe get the family to stop acting like a bunch of spoiled brats. I mean, now that your mother is orchestrating whatever might happen next you could just step back and let everything play out, so it’s nice to know that you’re still going to stick around in a less official role. Trying to help things move along quicker. You know, I'm not taking that for granted.”

Charon had thought about a lot of things the past few days – not just how to finagle some money out of the Olympians – and if he had learned one thing during all of this then it was that you couldn't just ignore a problem until it went away again – that there was no better time to act than the present and that maybe he should just take a risk sometimes.

And so Charon huffed out a plume of smoke and crocked the pointer finger of his right hand – beckoning Hermes a little closer. The god of swiftness heeded the invitation, drawing a closer, his gaze questioning but intrigued.

Once he was near enough Charon simply bowed at the hip, pressing the corner of his mouth against Hermes’ left cheek – the closest approximation of a kiss he could give. He lingered a little, making sure that Hermes got the sentiment, before he straightened up again so he could take in the other god’s expression.

…

It looked… very stunned indeed… shocked nearly. That hadn't really been what Charon had expected.

For a second Charon actually started to doubt his impulsive decision, his right hand already raising to pull his hat further down – shadow his face more than it already was. As if he somehow hoped it would hide him completely from sight.

“Oh no!” Hermes suddenly called out, life snapping back into him. He shot higher – wings beating loudly – and grabbed Charon's hat with both his hands, pulling it off the Stygian Boatman “No hiding, no take backs.” he said – tone booking no argument – before he sank down in the air again; now that he had gotten what he had wanted.

Hermes was looking up, he was grinning, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He drew a circle around Charon, brushing against him as he did so – wings and arms and calves stocking against the black of Charon's robes, making the material flutter and sway.

It was only one single circle and soon enough he drew to a stop right in front of Charon again “No refunds.” he sing-songed before he tilted his head a little so he could place a kiss of his own on Charon's cheek – warm, soft lips on cool, slightly rough skin.

The sudden, tender contact startled a wheezing sound and a huge cloud of smoke out of Charon. The reaction had Hermes snickering. 

The god of swiftness drew back a little, eyes focusing on Charon's face “Guess this is a new type of partnership now, maybe we should celebrate that, if you know what I mea… ow! Don’t poke me with your oar.” Hermes said though his words were full of laughter and a few puffs of smoke soon signalled Charon joining in as well.

Charon lifted his right hand, bony, ring-adorned fingers cupping around Hermes’ jaw – drawing the other god’s face a little higher so Charon did not have to bend down quite as far. Again he pressed the side of his mouth against Hermes’ cheek – an apology and a playful promise both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that it’s done. A huge thanks to everyone who stuck around to the end and read this whole thing. I hope you enjoyed it. As always I'm going off on a bit of a tangent at the end here, so everyone who doesn't want to read that, this is it. Thanks for reading <3
> 
> Okay, now to the blabber. As I already mentioned at the beginning and in the summery I have actually no idea what this is, it’s a weird mix between character study, backstory, slice of life, romance and weird plot (that I had to change around a little from chapter 15 onwards so sorry for any jank that this might have caused). Still despite all that I'm actually rather fond of this fic – at least at the moment. I wrote this after finally breaking through a really severe months-long writing block and I guess I'm just happy to have finally written something again even if it isn't one hundred percent perfect. I usually stuff fics that I'm not too sure about into a separate folder, never-to-be-seen-again but I had a lot of fun writing this and it’s the first thing I finished in a long time, so I just decided to share it anyway. So I just hope that – to whoever is still down here reading this – you enjoyed this fic and that it was an overall pleasant experience.
> 
> I hope you all are having a nice day <3 Comments are always appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> In case any of you might be wondering, yes, I indeed just uploaded an entire multi-chapter fanfic in one go. Yes, I'm aware of the fact that that is likely a dumb idea but after working through a massive writing block for like, the last half year, I just wanted to upload something before the year is over and I honestly don't have the patience to upload this fic piece-meal so here it is: 19 chapters in one go.  
> Also just as a heads up, I'm rusty af after said half year of not writing anything so please don't expect some masterwork here because this really isn't that. I just wrote this for fun. Also also the original Character tag is for other gods that I mention who don't appear in the game. They are just mentioned and talked about, they won’t appear as actual characters.
> 
> For the people down here, still reading my notes: Thanks for giving this fic a chance <3 Comments are always appreciated!


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